What's Owed
by Angelia Dark
Summary: Ford was not the only one who made a deal with something in Gravity Falls. What Stan made a deal with is much older and more powerful, and payment is due.
1. Chapter 1

Stanley Pines found himself staying up late at night for no reason other than the fact that he was too used to his double life to just go to bed at a decent hour. It was no fun staring at a ceiling for hours on end, so he took to sneaking downstairs and sitting outside on the couch for the hours he normally spent working on the portal and coding.

He normally avoided the outdoors at night. THINGS crawled around at night; things that he didn't want in his home. The only reason why he stepped outdoors at night was to check the wards around the property; there were only so many times he would wake up to gnomes raiding his kitchen before he did something about it.

He cracked open a can of soda and sipped it quietly, staring out at the pitch darkness of the forest, hearing an oddity of things behind the trees croon out, almost beckoning. He shuddered hard. He hated that sound. He hated the sensation it gave him; a pulling, yearning to answer that call. It was almost addictive, and he truly understood why his brother became so obsessed with this place.

The can was empty in no time, but he couldn't bring himself to throw it away. The can seemed to serve as an anchor, a reminder to not answer that call. It seemed to work, anyhow.

But he knew it wouldn't work forever.

Stan took a deep breath and let it out, looking upward out at the sky. The stars were flickering brightly, illuminating out constellations he knew by heart by now. Nestled up high in the sky was a tiny sliver that remained in the moon.

It made his blood run cold; that sight ALWAYS chilled him inside. It always served as a warning, an omen he heeded religiously for thirty years.

But now…it served as a reminder, the sliver of moon perfectly paralleling his current predicament.

His time was running out.

* * *

Normally, Stan could easily hide the weariness that always hung about after his long days and late nights, but today, he just couldn't do it. When the first, barest hints of light began glowing from behind the trees in the east, he headed inside and went to bed, crashing out hard enough so that Dipper and Mabel tried to wake him, failed, and had run downstairs in a panic to get his brother for fear of some nefariousness had occurred.

He barely remembered the conversation, but he was SURE he managed to convey he was just tired and wanted to sleep in, and hoped that the swearing was just in his head and not out loud in case the niblings were listening just outside the door. Either way, he was left alone again, and delved back into his dark, silent dreamland.

It was as solitary and eventful as laying down in the middle of a forest; peaceful, yet unnerving. Unnerving because of the omen. Of the reminder that his payment was close to being due. At least it was a gentle reminder…but he knew enough from his past to know that gentle reminders could quickly turn into something worse if payment wasn't delivered.

It was around three in the afternoon by the time he woke up, and he felt oddly refreshed and not at all old-man achy. Ugh, sweet Moses, if a full REM sleep was the cure-all to his issues, he would have tried it AGES ago.

He went into the kitchen and made up some coffee, looking up when Ford came in from the basement, muttering something as he wrote in Journal 2. Stan swallowed hard, feeling both a lurching of anxiety and that _beckoning._

 _Your payment is almost due._

 _'I know, I know…'_

"…You want some?" he asked, getting Ford's attention. Ford looked up, noting the odd wake-up time of Stan, but nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "I could use some."

Stan poured out two cups, feeling a tinge of bitterness that Ford couldn't even say 'thank you' for THIS. He put the cups down on the table and sat down, sipping his quietly. Ford did the same, his nose still buried in the journal. "…so where are the kids?"

"….hm?"

"The KIDS, Stanford," Stan repeated. "Where are the KIDS? I can at LEAST trust you to watch them for a few hours, right?"

Ford gave him an irritated look. "They're fine, Stanley," he replied. "They're out with Wanda—"

" _Wendy_."

"—yes, Wendy. I had work to do, and she was agreeable enough to take them into town for the day. You're welcome."

Stan's fingers flexed around the coffee cup, his jaw clenching tightly, displaying impressive self-control to prevent himself from letting loose a string of everything on his mind. He took a few sips of coffee to drown out those words, staring out the window.

The day was beautiful. He swore he felt a slight hint of coolness in the breeze that filtered in through the screen. It was almost mocking him. This place ALWAYS seemed to mock him.

"I'm going back downstairs," Ford said, picking up his coffee cup and journal, standing up. Stan felt the omen buzz like a five-alarm bitch, and felt a surge of anxiety.

"Stanford, stay," he said, his voice sounding slightly more panicked than he intended. It was enough to make Ford pause and look up from his journal.

"…why?" he asked, frowning. "Stanley, I really DO have a lot of work to do—"

"Just…!" Stan swallowed hard, his hands clutching his coffee cup so tightly he was afraid it would shatter. "…Ten minutes. Just give me ten minutes, okay?"

Ford's frown deepened, but he sat back down. "…Is everything alright?" he asked. "…you've…gone a little pale."

Shit. Stan let out a heavy sigh, forcing his tensed shoulders to relax. "….I'm fine," he half-lied. "…just ten minutes."

Ford sat back in his chair, looking his twin over critically. Tensed body, pale complexion, jittery tone…it seemed like symptoms of anxiety. But what would Stanley have to feel anxious about over five eventless minutes? In any case, if ten minutes would ease the anxiety, he could at least spare that. He sipped his coffee, opening his journal again, eyes flicking up slightly every so often, noting that Stanley did indeed seem to be calming down somewhat.

Stan didn't feel calm on the inside. A thousand questions swum around in his head, a thousand more things to say…just to TALK about. If that omen was calling, he didn't want it to call him with his end only half-done.

He could see the minutes ticking by on his watch, and knew ten minutes was all Ford would spare him. His brother was dutiful, not generous. He drained his cup and set it down before wringing his hands, the one TRUE question on his mind being the one he SHOULD ask, but he was deathly afraid to.

Two minutes.

He knew he'd never get his brother to sit with him like this again for the rest of the summer. And then…

"…Stanford," he finally said, his voice small but resolute. Ford looked up, exasperation in his eyes, but a show of patience on his face.

"Yes?" he asked.

Stan weighed his words, wondered about the implications of saying them, but knowing he HAD to know. He forced his hands to unclench, letting out a calming sigh. "I need you to answer something for me," he continued. "And I need you to answer honestly. Don't sugarcoat it, don't…don't bullshit me to try to spare my feelings or whatever. Just be completely and utterly honest." He paused, forcing himself to say it.

"…Will you ever truly forgive me? For everything. Put everything behind us, and forgive me?"

There was a deafening silence between them, but at least Stan had Ford's full attention. Stan could practically see the cogs turn in Ford's head as he mulled over the question, but he didn't have to wait long for his answer.

"…no."

To be honest, Stan expected it. It still didn't ease the pain in his chest, feeling like an icicle had pierced his heart and was freezing his insides. He wanted to scream, cry, throw furniture around…

Instead, he nodded. "Thank you," he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out as he stood up. "Thank you for being honest with me."

"Stanley—"

"Ford, I asked you to be honest," Stan said. "And…I think I already knew the answer. It was just….something I had to know for SURE." He walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs, moving faster than necessary.

"Stanley—!"

He shut the door to his room to drown out Ford's words, pressing his back to the door. He'd hoped…..he just thought if…..

 _Your payment is almost due._

Stan's body slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor.

It was tonight, then. His debt would be paid in full tonight.

He'd hoped he had more time, but…

Stan buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with dry, silent sobbing.

* * *

He managed to buck himself up in time for the kids to come back. They'd had a great day out with Wendy, and he couldn't be happier. He put on a good face for them, ordered out pizza for dinner, and let Mabel splurge on the cheese sticks and desserts.

Dipper looked suspiciously at him for spending so much money, but childish delight over pizza and desserts won out. Stan knew it would, and he was grateful for it. He wanted his last night here to be a fond one, and even if it wasn't with his brother, it could be for his great-niece and nephew.

After dinner, they all went into the TV room to watch a movie, and proceeded to spend half an hour debating and compromising. Dipper wanted a sci-fi movie, Mabel wanted a teenybopper flick, and Stan wanted something that wouldn't give him a migraine. They settled on a romcom, something Stan knew Mabel loved and Dipper secretly enjoyed.

The niblings crashed out before it ended, and Stan quietly carried them up to the attic to bed. As he tucked them in, he felt his heart sink deeper and deeper, hating himself for leaving them like this. He'd leave a note—of COURSE he would, he didn't want them going on a mad goose chase that would never conclude—but it didn't seem ENOUGH.

Not enough time. Not enough consideration. Not enough done that he WANTED to achieve.

He took of Mabel's headband and Dipper's hat, setting them on the table between the beds, watching them sleep peacefully for a few moments longer. He spotted Journal 3 on the table, pausing before picking it up and jotting something down on a blank page before slipping downstairs to tidy up.

He was stalling; he knew he was. He WAS going to do it, but just to stay in this house for awhile longer, take in every familiar detail, memorize every creaky floorboard and crack in the wall. He never wanted to forget.

He finished tidying and walked into his office, sitting down at the desk with a sigh before pulling a drawer that held his hard liquor stash and pouring himself a tumbler. Just one glass and nothing more. He just needed a little extra liquid courage, that was all.

After sitting in silence, he opened a notebook, picked up a pen, and began to write.

* * *

Stan could have easily left through the front door, but he took the gift shop door just to look at the vending machine one more time. Part of him wanted to punch in the code, go down, and beg his brother for reconciliation…but he knew it was fruitless.

The hurt was too deep, with forty-odd years' worth of contempt irreparably cracking the foundation that was their relationship. No, it was best to just…get this over with.

He kissed his fingers and pressed them to the button pad, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, picking up his 8-ball cane and walking out of the Shack, heading into the forest just as the clocks in the house struck midnight.

Stan was dressed up to the nines in the nicest of his Mr. Mystery suits, paired nicely with his expensive red and gold bolo tie and gold watch. He even wore his fez. It was completely unnecessary, but he wanted to look his best for paying his dues, because THIS was who he was. Every piece he wore, every accessory flaunted, was all him, ingrained with thirty years' worth of blood, sweat, and tears.

It gave him confidence to walk through the woods, even though he knew not one creature in here would dare harm him. Not now. Not when he had business with something far greater than them, far older.

He walked for an hour, the energy he woke up with thrumming stronger. Had he not checked the mirror before leaving the Shack, he would swear he felt eighteen again. Not an ache in his legs or back, no shortness of breath from walking for so long. He wasn't surprised; as ALIVE as this place was, he knew it had plenty of energy to spare for him to make this journey.

At last, a vibration of energy in the air that he could feel in every molecule of his being let him know he'd arrived. He stopped, standing just outside of a clearing in the forest, resting his hands on his cane quietly. There was a stillness in the air, like time itself was standing still, just for him. Just for THIS.

"…I'm here to pay my debt," he said into the darkness. He felt his breath catch in his throat when he felt something akin to static without the sharp surprise of shock run over his body.

 _I sense something left undone_ , said a voice from the air, spoken in a hundred languages unknown to man, but a whisper of English in his ear. _Why come when your mission is unfulfilled, as agreed?_

Stan swallowed hard, hands tightening around the 8-ball of his cane. "Because it was pointless," he replied. "There…will never be a reconciliation. But…it is not as important as my TRUE mission." He looked up, his eyes hard with resolution. "I've done what I promised I would do…and I'm ready to pay the debt I owe for allowing it to happen."

 _You will face eternal regret_ , the voice said matter-of-factly.

"I know. But I was prepared to face it, had my time come before I could get him back. Let me die with dignity, on my own terms."

 _You poor man. It is not death you face now. But you will have your dignity. Come, we await you. We call your debt to be paid._

Stan straightened his back, gripping his cane tightly in one hand. "It IS death," he said. "Stan Pines died thirty years ago, and he dies tonight. And I'm okay with that. Bring it on."

With that being said, Stan Pines stepped into the clearing.


	2. Chapter 2

Stanford Pines jerked awake violently, his hand flying to his chest. He went blind with panic for a few seconds before he finally caught his breath, his hand clenching the front of his sweater tightly.

He had dozed off at his desk, and had the most peculiar dream. He was walking through the forest in Gravity Falls…no, walking wasn't the proper term for it. He was just THERE. Like he was an incorporeal ghost following a first-person view along for the ride. He felt like he didn't belong there. He was unwelcome, and every fiber in his being was screaming at him to GET OUT.

There was nothing but forest for miles on either side of him, and then suddenly a clearing. And Ford, not being a religious man by any means, suddenly felt the fear of god slam into him. God, the devil…SOME form of deity that would have made him fall to his knees and strike him deaf, dumb, and blind had he been there personally.

Instead, he remained in place as the first-person view was gone, and he was now the outside third. He saw a familiar form step away and into the clearing…and then felt as though something had been cut from him.

Ford rubbed his chest, absently noting that he was prodding over his heart. He literally felt as though his heart was cut out…

…he felt like something was gone. He'd NEVER felt this before, in any dimension.

He felt the sudden urge to run and check on his family. He hurried to the elevator and crept out from behind the vending machine. The gift shop was silent and dark, not a sound from the house. He edged his way around the bottom floor before creeping upstairs, wincing every time he stepped on a creaky floorboard, then mentally smacking himself about feeling weird about walking around his own damn house.

Stanley's bedroom door was shut. If something was wrong, he was sure Stanley would have woken up by now. He walked up the stairs to the attic, peeking inside the twins' room.

Dipper and Mabel were sleeping soundly in bed, not looking disturbed by any bad dreams at all. That was good. No need to worry there. He edged back down to the second-floor landing, pausing in front of Stanley's room again.

His hands flexed by his sides, debating whether or not he should poke his head in, just to check. On the one hand, it would assuage his paranoia; on the other, he might risk another grumbling mess like he had earlier that morning.

Ford felt a tightness in his chest, remembering what came after. That question Stanley asked out of nowhere…and his own answer to it.

He'd answered honestly. He DIDN'T know if he could truly and honestly forgive Stanley for everything and just move on. There was a lot of pain to slough through, forty years' worth of it.

 _'It's not like you're the only one who suffered,'_ said a little voice in the back of his head. He had an inkling it was his conscience. He sort of hated it, especially at how irritatingly RIGHT it always was.

It made him think about how lost his twin sounded when he pulled the curtains shut on him when they were young. About how hurt Stanley sounded when he told him to take the journal and leave. About when he said he wanted his house and name back. About how the light in Stanley's eyes died when he said he wouldn't be able to get over the past.

 _'Sounds like you've hurt him a lot more than he's hurt you.'_

No. No, it was mutual, at BEST. Stanley broke his project. Stanley refused to listen to reason and just leave with the journal. Stanley pushed him into the portal and cost him thirty years of his life.

 _'It was an accident. He'd waited ten years to see you again. He spent those thirty years trying to fix his mistake.'_

He'd made a mockery of his research by turning it all into a tourist trap—!

 _'—that paid off your mortgage. That supported himself and employees while he got you back.'_

Ford looked up from his inner debate, noting that his hand was resting on the bedroom door. And that emptiness inside of him was starting to hurt. He stood there for a few minutes more before taking his hand off of the door and heading back downstairs. He wanted this stinging to go away before he spoke to Stanley again.

* * *

 _There was something watching him._

 _He didn't know if it was benevolent or malevolent. But he'd learned enough from Gravity Falls to know whatever it was…it wasn't anything normal. It was old. Very old. Older than the trees, older than the land. It made him feel small. Insignificant. Like standing in the presence of a god and hoping you wouldn't be smote simply for BEING._

 _Every hair on his body stood on end and something reached out to him. He couldn't see it, but he could FEEL it. It wanted him to feel. To KNOW._

"Great-Uncle Ford!"

Ford jerked awake for the second time that day, his heart hammering and goosebumps covering his skin. He looked up, seeing Dipper hurrying over to him, looking upset. "Dipper," he said, straightening his glasses and trying to keep the residual fear from his dream out of his voice. "What is it?"

"It's Grunkle Stan," Dipper said. Ford sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Is he sleeping in again?" he asked. "Really, if he wants to sleep in these days—"

"It's not that," Dipper cut in. "He's…I don't know WHERE he is! He's not in his room, his car's still here…" He swallowed hard, looking pale. "He's never done this before."

The fear in Dipper's voice was all Ford needed to take this a bit more seriously. He led the way back upstairs, where Mabel was sitting in the gift shop, staring out the window as though hoping Stan would show up at any minute. Ford headed upstairs to Stanley's room quietly with Dipper in tow.

"I thought he was sleeping too," Dipper was saying as they walked. "His door was shut, everything was off downstairs…but when me and Mabel went in to check, he wasn't there." He stayed back around the edge of the doorframe as Ford walked into the room.

The bed was made, like Stanley never went to sleep last night. And if he was just running out for something like an emergency, he wouldn't have made it up right away. AND he would have taken the car.

Ford backed out of the room, that hollowness in his chest starting to hurt again. He felt ice cold and ill as he hurried downstairs and outside, taking a brisk round of the property, hoping to see SOMETHING.

But there was nothing. No sign at all.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying not to let his nerves fray with panic, his throat itching to start shouting his brother's name, an urge he just BARELY managed to contain. He took a few deep breaths before heading inside, noticing that Mabel hadn't stepped away from the window since he first saw her.

"…Mabel?" he said softly. "…do you know….I mean…." He didn't know what he meant. He took in Mabel's expression, which was a perfect blend of worry and sadness. Like she knew in her heart something had happened, but she didn't know what, or why.

Mabel rubbed her arms quietly, shaking her head. Ford signed, and began looking through the house for some sign of SOMETHING. A note, an explanation, anything.

The TV room, kitchen, dining nook, and his own upstairs bedroom turned up nothing. Ford walked into the office, expecting the same, but paused when he saw, at last, something out of the ordinary.

The office looked as though Staley had been in the process of clearing it out. Personal items and files were in boxes along the walls, and all that remained on the desk was were two framed photos and a manila folder with an envelope on top.

Ford swallowed hard, shutting the door a little behind him and walking around the desk. The two photos in the frames caught his eye first. One was of Dipper and Mabel, making funny faces for the camera. The second was very old, and depicted another set of twins around the same age doing almost the same poses. He picked up the older picture, looking it over, noting the fine condition it was in. It must have belonged to his mother, who cherished the few photos she had of them together.

He tore his eyes from the photo and lowered them to the desk. The envelope on top of the folder simply said _**FORD**_.

Ford sat down in the chair, picking up the envelope and holding it in his shaking hands for a few moments before shifting it to the side, opening the folder.

Inside was his birth certificate, social security card, the deed to the house, and several other documents Ford recognized as important pieces concerning his property and identity.

 _"But when the summer's over, you give me my house back, you give me my NAME back—"_

He shook his head, internally reeling over how BAD he sounded in his own head. Had he REALLY sounded like that? He looked down at the folder of documents, tracing his finger quietly over the leafs of paper. Okay. So. Stanley came through on his word. But it was understood that this wasn't necessary until the end of the summer, when the children went home.

His name on the envelope seemed to call out to him, beg him to read it. He closed his eyes, his fingers twitching.

He was afraid.

Afraid of what was in that letter.

Afraid that what was inside would tell him everything, everything he wanted and feared to know.

He silently picked the letter up, turning it around and breaking the seal before pulling out one single sheet of paper, hand-written with penmanship that conveyed care and certainty in the words. He closed his eyes again for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting it out before opening his eyes and reading.

 _Dear Stanford,_

 _My one regret is that all of this is being said in writing instead of face-to-face. But forty years' worth of bitterness will probably prevent that from ever happening, and my time is limited._

 _I don't blame you one bit for being angry with me, or for not thanking me. What I did to you was unforgivable, and not one day goes by that I wish it had been me instead…or if I had just been man enough to take the journal and leave. I was stupid to think that things could be forgiven so easily…on both instances._

 _If you're reading this, you've probably figured out that I'm gone. Where I've gone…I'm not entirely sure. I've been there before, but it was long ago, and I don't know how I made it home. But I've gone back, and I'm staying._

 _Thirty years ago, I delved into something I shouldn't have, but I was shown grace and mercy and I've owed a debt ever since for it. Last night was the only time I could have called in my debt, and because of that, my departure had to be sped up a little._

 _I just hate that I had to do this without telling the kids goodbye…but I couldn't handle another month of uncertainty and pain. I was already pushing my luck as it was._

 _Stanford…Sixer…brother…please. If there is one thing I ask of you is that you don't shut yourself away in this house with nothing but your mysteries for company. The kids love you, Dipper especially, and they'll need a Grunkle. Reconnect with your family. When all the mysteries are solved and things get boring, they'll be there to always give you something new to experience._

 _I'm sort of running out of things to write. Well, of any relevance, anyway. If I wanted to write down everything I ever wanted to say, I'd never leave this office. Just…I'm sorry. For everything. For not being a better brother, a better son, a better man._

 _Goodbye, Stanford. Please, don't go looking for me. You should know by now that some mysteries aren't worth solving._

 _All my love,_

 _Stanley_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thirty Years Ago…**_

 _Stanley Pines was lost._

 _He sat down on a log, throwing his bag on the ground, swearing up and down that he'd smack Stanford upside the head and demand just what the hell he was THINKING staying in a place like this, messing with the THINGS that lived here._

 _On days he wasn't working on that stupid portal, he was looking through the rest of the journal and mulling over the curiosities that were jotted down. They were admittedly fascinating to think about, and he got over his initial incredulousness after finding a bunch of gnomes raiding the pantry._

 _Vicious little things. But honestly, when he put on his brass knuckles and demonstrated his punching proficiency, they were smart enough to back off._

 _Little bastards were probably raiding his house right at this moment. He just knew it._

 _He looked up at the sky, sighing when he saw that it was getting late. He had to find SOME landmark that would point him back to town before nightfall. Normally, he'd use the sun as a guide, but it seemed no matter where he walked, the sun would be somewhere else in the sky._

 _So with that weirdness happening, he opted to pick a direction and just walk._

 _And walk._

 _And walk._

 _And walk._

 _And then the sun set._

 _The sky was dark with no moon to illuminate his path. The knife he kept in his bag was now clutched in his hand, ready and waiting to be used on any creature that would show up and try to make a meal out of him. But to his surprise, he heard nothing._

 _Literally, middle of summer, nothing._

 _No insects, no bats, no odd hoots and growls he normally heard from the back porch._

 _The air was unnaturally still, yet it tingled with the kind of electric feel he normally felt during lightning storms, only it felt more…alive. Like he was walking to the beat of something's heart._

 _Those existential thoughts began making his heart race, putting his teeth on edge. His eyes flicked around, cursing himself up and down for not making sure he had extra batteries for the flashlight that died out right at sunset._

 _He had to get out of here._

 _Right as he had that thought, everything went silent. Somehow even more silent than before, like everything stopped existing except for him._

 _And suddenly, he knew what a bug in a jar felt like._

 _He was being watched._

 _From EVERYWHERE._

 _"…Who's there!?" he demanded, spinning around in place. "I know you're there!"_

 _No response was heard, but he had a sensation of a tidal wave of SOMETHING incoming. He wasn't wrong. Moments later, the feeling of having the breath pulled right out of his lungs, the strength from his muscles, and the senses from his head, collapsing on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut._

 _He was terrified. He was laying on the forest floor, unable to smell the earth under his nose, unable to move to break his fall. He was screaming inside his mind, feeling like something was trying to drill right into his skull._

 _ **You should not have come here, mortal.**_

 _Stan froze when he heard a voice—voices? One, more?—right next to his ear. A strangled croak left his throat, a pitiful substitute for the scream that was brewing up in his chest. 'Oh god oh god oh sweet Moses please…!'_

 _ **We send out the warnings. Sensible creatures heed them. Even the simplest of beasts know that those who come at this time remain for all of eternity.**_

 _Eternity?! No. No no no no no, this couldn't be happening…! Stan's body twitched in protest to make it MOVE, to do SOMETHING—_

 _He flinched hard when he felt something curl around his legs and drag him across the forest floor. His fingers twitched weakly in an attempt to dig into the ground to stop whatever it was from dragging him._

 _ **Do not fight it, mortal. It will be painless. You belong to us now. All who come here become part of us.**_

 _No! Oh god NO!_

 _He summoned all the willpower in his soul as he dug his fingers into the dirt, his muscles straining to respond to his command. His hand caught onto a thick root in the ground, and he used every ounce of strength left in him to hold on._

 _ **Do not fight it. Let go, mortal, and accept your fate.**_

 _"N…..n…..no….!" Stan growled out, tightening his grip on the root. "No…n…no…!" He couldn't let himself be taken. He couldn't die like this, not when he had so much left to do! Not when he hadn't gotten his brother back!_

 _"Not…cant…..F…Ford….!" he groaned, his muscles screaming in protest as whatever it was that had a hold of him pulled harder. "F…Ford…! S…stop…cant….go…!"_

 _The pull on him gave a strong jerk, and his hand was dislodged from the root, his body dragging across the floor again. He clawed at the ground, fighting with all his strength to stop his body from going to wherever he was being taken, to keep from going where there was no return._

 _The energetic static in the air was buzzing at his skin, bringing his senses back, making him fight that much harder._

 _ **Why do you fight the inevitable, mortal? Eternity here will not be torture, just another existence for you. Do not fight it.**_

 _"F…fuck….you…!" Stan growled, clawing harder. "I cant…I cant go like this…! He…..needs me…!" He grabbed for another root and missed. "Cant…go…until he's back…!" He yelped when he felt a painful prickling in his legs, similar to the sensation of his legs falling asleep. He jerked his head around to see what was happening, and saw that he was being dragged by some intangible force into a clearing._

 _Oh god, that clearing…something about it terrified the absolute hell out of him. He knew that if he went in there, he wouldn't be coming back out. He let out a frustrated, terrified scream, his fingers second-knuckle-deep into the dirt._

 _"PLEASE!" he screamed, straining to crawl forward while he was being dragged back. "PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU! I CANT GO, NOT NOW!" Tears poured down his face, his fingers bleeding from cuts and torn fingernails. "HE NEEDS ME!"_

 _Everything stopped._

 _Those last words he spoke seemed to echo through the trees from the stillness, but Stan didn't care. He kept clawing and crawling in the dirt, sobbing hysterically. "P…please…!" he bawled, his body shaking violently. "Let…let me save my brother! PLEASE!"_

 _That energetic, staticy presence made itself known again, a voice right next to his ear._

 _ **You beg not for yourself,** it said. **There is no concern for your own soul. Who is this brother of whom you speak?**_

 _Stan's breath hitched with sobs, his face buried in his dirty-covered arm. "…M…my brother…" he stammered through his tears. "…he…lived here….worked here…made….made some portal to…SOMEWHERE…" His shoulders shook as that horrible night was replayed in his mind. "…I lost him…my fault…just…just want to…to bring him back…make…up for what I did…! That's all…!"_

 _He let out a fresh sob, pounding the forest floor with his fist. "I don't give a FUCK about m-my soul!" he cried. "I'd sell it in a HEARTBEAT t-to get him back!" He collapsed on the ground, shaking and crying like a child._

 _He didn't know how long he was left there, and wasn't even fully aware when the invisible force entwined around his legs unwound itself and vanished._

 _ **Your intentions are pure** , the voice said when he was sobbed out enough to listen. **Never before have we had a mortal beg for the life of another rather than itself.**_

 _Well la-dee-dah. Stan didn't FEEL all that special. He felt lower than the dirt he was lying in, his heart torn to pieces over not being able to finish what he started._

 _ **Those who come at this time belong to us,** the voice continued. **That is a fate none are exempt from. Is the life of that whom you love truly worth your soul?**_

 _Stan's fists clenched tightly, his eyes, tear-filled as they were, hard as steel. "My brother is worth ten of me," he said. "He's worth my life. I've already killed myself in name and record. When he comes back…" He swallowed hard, lowering his head again._

 _"…Let me get him back," he said, his voice a shaky whisper. "…and I swear, you can have what's left of me."_

 _ **You ask for so much. More than has been granted before.**_

 _"You have my word. And my soul. You can HAVE it! I don't care, just…let me finish what I started!"_

 _There was a heavy silence, and Stan began to grow disheartened. He was bartering with some kind of godlike forest entity, in what universe would—_

 _ **We hold you to this, mortal man.**_

 _Stan was suddenly filled with energy, as much as he had when he first left the house that morning. He swallowed hard, shakily standing up, hissing when he felt a static around his hands, arms, and front, looking down to see that past the dirt, his cuts were gone._

 _ **You have a debt to us,** the voice said, the tone genial, yet underlying with an unspoken threat. **And we will collect.**_

 _Stan swallowed again, clenching his hands tightly. "I'll pay," he swore. "I might cheat on my taxes, but I pay back the debts that matter. I swear, I'll pay up. Just let me bring my brother back."_

 _ **So you shall. Go.**_

 _Stan didn't think to ask 'where', he just took off running. He'd never run faster in his life, and not even wolves could catch him if they tried. He ran for what was SURE to be a full hour before he broke out of a line of trees—_

 _—and was back home._

 _He stood on the border of the forest, staring slack-jawed at the house before an instinctive niggling at his back drove him to keep going until he was inside the house. He shut and locked the door, ran to the basement, and used whatever forest deity-given energy that was given to him to get right back to work on the portal._

 _Good god. This could take as little as next year or as much as the rest of his life before he'd have to call in his debt._

 _But it would be worth it._

 _His beloved twin was worth it._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Fun fact: Listening to Adele's "Hello" while reading this doubles the feels.**_

* * *

Stanford Pines stared blankly out at the forest from the back porch, looking like a lost child. In his hand was the letter Stanley had left him, crumpled from being clenched in his hands, the ink smeared slightly. It may have been tears, but Ford didn't remember crying. He didn't remember much of anything after finishing the lines, _All my love, Stanley_.

He only recalled bits and pieces of the past however-long. Leaving the office. Dipper asking what was wrong. He thought he replied something along the lines of 'he's gone and he's not coming back'.

A bit gauche in hindsight; he'd upset the kids with that. Dipper demanded more information while Mabel just curled up on herself and delved into Sweater Town.

Everything blurred after that. He was sure he'd been sitting outside since, inwardly hoping Stanley would come back if he did so. His gut, wrenched with pain and guilt, also growled with hunger, his mouth dry with thirst. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move from where he sat.

A faint voice, tucked back in his mind and suffocating in the pain, was telling him he HAD to get up. He HAD to go inside. There were young ones who needed him. He had a responsibility to them. He couldn't dwell on that voice for long before it was smothered up in the thick numbness that enveloped him from the inside out.

He became aware that the sun was setting, the darkness of the air settling for a few moments before the porch light was clicked on. The bulb was faded, and the light wasn't much, but it was enough to get his attention somewhat.

The porch door opened and the kids stepped out. Mabel stood in the door frame, her chin tucked into her sweater, rubbing her arms quietly as though she was feeling the same cold emptiness that he was. Dipper was carrying a sandwich and a can of soda, both of which were sat down on the couch next to him.

Ford felt a touch moved by the gesture, but he still couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it properly. He couldn't bear to eat or drink anything.

The kids stood quietly, as though waiting for some sign that he was still…well, THERE. The wait was long and tense, and finally, after the sun had set completely, Dipper murmured a soft 'goodnight, Grunkle Ford' before heading inside with his sister.

Grunkle. That beloved term of endearment that was normally saved just for Stan. Ford let out a shaky breath, feeling his eyes well up slightly, but still his body refused to move, no matter how much his mind fought to do so. He couldn't…he just…

…he couldn't do it.

He couldn't do anything except ache for his brother, and wallow in that empty pain left inside.

Out of the stillness of the forest, a wind picked up, rattling the leaves of the trees. It was a sound that made a shiver run up Ford's spine, his fingers loosening just enough for the letter clenched in his hand to almost flutter free. His hands snapped up and caught it before it could blow away, and out of the crumpled parts came a line written in one of the only smooth sections left.

 _The kids love you—they'll need a Grunkle._

Ford stared at those words, that little voice shouting stronger through the numbness.

The kids.

They love you.

They need you.

They need a Grunkle.

Ford's hands shook, his muscles shifting as he tried to force himself to stand up.

They love you.

They NEED you.

' _Stanley…_ _ **I**_ _need you…!'_

Another soft breeze whispered over the trees and up to the Shack, brushing across Ford's face, and the man almost felt his heart stop when he caught a peculiar scent.

Pine oil and leather.

Just like the aftershave that still sat in Stanley's bathroom.

Ford is on his feet in a flash, looking around wildly for SOME sign of his brother, but there was none. The scent, as quick as it came, was gone, like a fleeting memory.

No…like a reminder.

' _The kids love you—they'll need a Grunkle.'_

Ford's eyes trailed to the food and drink Dipper brought him, and felt reality crash into him hard. Here he was, unresponsive and useless, leaving two grieving, confused children to fend for themselves and still take time to take care of HIM.

He bolted inside the house, looking around wildly for the kids before hearing them in the TV room. He ran in and saw them squished together in Stanley's chair, staring blankly at the TV.

Dipper raised his head when he saw Ford run in, looking surprised but understandably apprehensive. Mabel wiped at her eyes, tugging her sweater down from her face.

"…Grunkle Ford?" she queried softly.

That was all it took for Ford to break.

He rushed up and knelt down on the ground in front of the chair, scooping the twins up and hugging them close, his body shaking from the sobs that were starting to break away up his chest. Mabel seemed to understand right away, hugging him back tightly, burying her face in his shoulder. Dipper caught on soon after, the strong façade he put on for Mabel's sake cracking as he clutched his remaining great-uncle's jacket like he was afraid HE'D vanish too.

Ford tightened his arms around the twins, unable to form words of comfort or apology for all of this. Because of him, he no longer had a twin, and the niblings were down to just one Grunkle. And he knew he was a shoddy stand-in for Stanley. His brother loved these kids more than life itself; loved HIM more than life itself. What could he say to make Stanley's absence more bearable?

Nothing.

So he said nothing.

He just held the twins tightly, not letting go even when they cried themselves to sleep. He just settled back on the floor and stared up at the ceiling, as though it would give him the answers to all the questions he had. Of course, it gave nothing back but silence.

And so he fell asleep too, making a promise to be a better man in the morning, for the kids. And for Stanley.


	5. Chapter 5

Ford was in Level 2 of his basement, pulling out every book and scroll he kept down there, looking through them fervently in the hopes of finding a clue as to where his brother had gone.

Nothing like Stanley had subtly described was familiar to him _. 'I've been there before, but it was long ago, and I don't know how I made it home'._ There were no open dimensional vortexes in the forest, as far as he knew. He had studied that forest front and back for almost seven years, and found none that were open.

' _Thirty years ago, I delved into something I shouldn't have, but I was shown grace and mercy and I've owed a debt ever since for it'._ That first part was chillingly familiar. He too had poked around with something he shouldn't have, and because of it, he almost doomed the world. For a brief time, he feared Bill had gotten a hold of Stanley thirty years ago, but then he reread the second half.

'Grace' and 'mercy' were two words that were foreign to Bill Cipher. And Bill didn't call in 'debts', he called in 'deals'. Not once in the time Ford knew Bill, did he know Bill to swap those words around.

So that left Ford back at square one, every time.

Ford leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. Think, Stanford, think. Read between the lines.

 _'Been there before'._

 _'Don't know how I made it home'._

 _'Delved into something I shouldn't have'._

 _'Shown grace and mercy'._

 _'Owed a debt'._

 _'Thirty years ago'._

 _'Thirty years ago.'_

 _'Thirty years ago'._

That one bit kept gnawing at his brain. Thirty years ago…what happened thirty years ago?

Thirty years ago, he'd sent for Stanley. Stanley came, and he was shown the portal. They had a fight. Stanford was sucked into the portal. But what then?

 _'Don't be a dunce, Stanford!'_ his mind barked at him. _'Stanley told you himself, the day you came back!'_

 _ **"I tried for weeks to turn that dumb machine back on."**_

 _ **"By night I was down in the basement, trying to bring the real Stanford back."**_

And then Dipper's input came in: _**"So all this time, you were just trying to save your brother."**_

Pieces were there….fill them in, Stanford.

Thirty years ago, Stanley was trying to save him. Something happened. Something BIG. Big enough to warrant a literal life debt. Stanley was shown grace and mercy…

…in order to bring him back.

It took thirty years to bring him back.

And now Stanley's debt was called.

Ford leaned over his desk, burying his face in his hands. Thirty years, Stanley had that debt hanging over his head, but still he worked to get Stanford back. And the last thing he did was tell Stanley he couldn't forgive him for the past.

His twin brother literally sold his life away for more time to bring him back…and he told him he couldn't forgive him.

Ford shoved back from his desk, grabbing the nearest item and hurling it against the wall. STUPID! HE WAS SO GODDAMN STUPID! He grabbed a handful of papers and tore them in half, throwing them away from him. HIS PRIDE HURT HIS BROTHER IN THE LAST HOURS HE WAS IN THIS PLANE OF EXISTENCE! HE COULDN'T EVEN HAVE SAID 'THANK YOU'!

 _ **"…you really aren't going to thank me, are you?"**_

Ford let out a self-disgusted snarl, grabbing the Cipher paraphernalia he'd been neglecting to get rid of and tearing it down, shattering the crystal prisms, ripping the canvases, wishing more than anything he had a lighter so he could torch this whole goddamn room. His own pride and hubris caused ALL of this!

Letting his father throw Stanley out on the street, and then turning away when his brother reached out to HIM—for ONCE—for support.

Not bothering to get in touch with his brother, even when his mother told him where he was.

Only thinking to reach out when HE needed help.

Telling him to leave not twenty minutes after arriving.

Fighting him, branding him, practically calling him WORTHLESS…

...

Oh god.

Stanley was right.

He DID care more about his mysteries than his family.

Ford looked down at his shaking hands before surveying the wreckage around him, a messy reminder of what he had put first in his life. The arrogance that made him believe instantly that Bill was a 'muse' who chose him out of six billion other people in the world; the arrogance that almost cost him the end of the world.

The arrogance that cost him his brother…now TWICE. And this time, it was permanent.

Ford walked over to the desk, picking up Journal 1 and holding it in his hands. He remembered handing it to Stanley, telling him to take it and leave, and then within the same minute fighting to keep it.

If he had just let Stanley burn it…this wouldn't have happened. If he hadn't been so prideful and had just dismantled the portal after he shut it down, this wouldn't have happened.

A sudden whirring of the elevator snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up in time to see the door to his study open and Dipper rush in, looking both excited and frightened. "Dipper, what is it?" he asked, hoping the boy wouldn't ask about the wrecked study.

Dipper paid the mess no mind, holding up Journal 3. "Grunkle Ford, I found something weird," he said, his voice shaking. "I…I was just reading through it, just to take my mind off of things…" His hands shook as he opened the journal and flipped the pages over near the back of the book, to where a previously-empty page now had writing.

Ford's heart leapt to his throat when he recognized the writing as the same in Stanley's letter to him. He took the journal and pulled it closer to read.

The message was short, but written thickly, with clear indication that it should be heeded:

 **DO NOT EVER GO INTO THE FOREST DURING THE NEW MOON**

* * *

Mabel quietly walked through the woods, for once not taking notice of any of the creatures—normal and otherwise—that went about their business around her. She couldn't see the joy in much of anything, could no longer see the light and cuteness of what was around her anymore.

The past couple of days had been so hard, and she couldn't understand much of anything. All she knew was, her Grunkle Stan was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

She didn't know why he was gone. From what she gathered from Grunkle Ford, it had to do with some kind of Gravity Falls phenomena, which, from her experience here so far, was pretty much an answer in and of itself. Sometimes, there was no rhyme or reason to what went on in Gravity Falls. Sometimes gnomes popped up to kidnap people, sometimes unicorns needed a punch in the face.

Mabel loved Gravity Falls, for all its weirdness and company…but now she began to hate it. This place took her Grunkle Stan away from her, and she didn't know if she would ever see him again, let alone know whatever happened to him.

She sat down on a rock, tugging the collar of her sweater up over the lower half of her face before pulling her arms through the sleeves and hugging herself. It wasn't fair. Why did Grunkle Stan have to leave? Why did Gravity Falls have to take him NOW? Before summer was even over, before her and Dipper's birthday, without a goodbye? Whoever took him was cruel and mean, and she could just HATE them!

Tears welled up in her eyes and she nudged the collar up higher to soak them up. She didn't want to cry. Grunkle Ford couldn't stand it when she cried. The last time she even looked CLOSE to crying, he looked close to going all zombie-smasher on someone.

Heroic as THAT was, she really didn't want to have to go on a money-stash hunt in the Shack to pay his bail again.

Mabel managed to get a hold on her emotions, and just sat in silence. The rock became uncomfortable, so she found a nice patch of grass under a tree, relaxing back and closing her eyes, allowing herself to relive the best parts of the summer with her Grunkle Stan.

She swore it was just for a few minutes, but a cool breeze of air and the rustling of leaves woke Mabel up to a heavy dusk that cast dark shadows everywhere around her. She scrambled to her feet, pushing her arms back through her sleeves, chewing her lip.

The forest never really scared her before. Even after the gnome incident, she never really had a reason to fear this place. But she always had company then. She was never alone.

In fact, she'd never felt more alone than she did now.

Mabel rubbed her arms, hurrying along the path as the air grew darker and colder. There was an instinctive push in the back of her mind that was telling her that being out here alone after dark was BAD. Not the normal 'wolves might eat you' bad, but the 'Gravity Falls' unseen dangers' bad. It made her hair stand on end, made her feel like eyes were watching her from every angle.

The sound of a twig snapping behind her made her break into a run without looking back. She didn't care if it was a raccoon or something else that might have been harmless; she just needed to get out of there NOW.

It took her just a minute of running to realize, with a dawning horror, that she had no idea where she was running.

There was no discernible path in front of her, and nothing looked familiar. She skidded to a halt, looking around wildly, hearing THINGS in the woods chitter and howl around her like a tattletale beacon to where she was. Tears prickled at her eyes, and she reached up to wipe them away.

 _SNAP_

Mabel froze, feeling the air turn colder, actually seeing her breath fog in front of her as she heard SOMETHING in the woods in front of her step closer. Faintly, she could make out two faint pinprick glows of light high up on the ground…it had to have been seven or eight feet up. As they got closer, Mabel felt the air grow colder, and she took a few steps back.

The THING advanced closer, and Mabel began smelling something horrible, similar to the dead possum she and Dipper saw on the side of the road a few weeks back, only…FRESHER. It was horrible, and it made her feel sick. The THING began to take shape from the darkness, its silhouette darker than even the dark woods. It was thick in the middle, but spindly in the limbs, and on its head was a pair of horns that resembled tree branches.

It stepped closer, and Mabel stepped backwards, her breath coming out in quicker, heavier puffs.

"…h…help…." she squeaked, her body trembling from the cold and the terror. "…D…Dipper….Grunkle F…Ford….he…lp…!"

The THING began stepping slightly faster, and now Mabel could hear soft, high-pitched growls coming from it. She stumbled back, not knowing if she should keep going backwards or risk turning around to run. She didn't want to take her eyes off of it, not for a second. But it was getting closer, and faster, and pushing her further back into the woods.

"Help…" she gasped, backing up faster. "Help….please….help…!" Her side bumped into the edge of a tree, her heel almost catching on a root. The THING picked up its pace, and Mabel couldn't go backwards any faster. She turned and began to run.

Her insides felt like ice, and her breath was coming out more labored, making it hard for her to breathe. She could hear the THING keep up a chasing, yet leisure pace behind her, like it was chasing her just enough for her to be ahead, but so she'd tire out faster. Like a sick game of tag.

"Help…!" she wailed out, forcing her legs to sprint faster, cursing her choice in footwear but shoving the thought aside. "Help! D-Dipper—! Grunkle Ford—!"

The rotten scent the THING was giving off was almost choking her; she could hear high, ragged breaths behind her. She swore the breaths sounded EXCITED. That thought make her waste breath on a choked sob, her eyes blurring with tears.

Momentarily blinded by the blurring, she didn't see the rock in her path until she was tripping over it, and she pitched forward, her head smashing against a fallen tree branch. While not knocked unconscious, she was still knocked senseless, the world going both white and black, hearing the THING getting closer, the stench growing fouler and heavier.

In a daze, she turned her head, her blurry vision seeing the THING step close to her, and with some sense she had to spare, she was grateful she wasn't able to see clearly. Those glowing, dead eyes staring down at her were nightmarish enough, and she didn't need the rest of the picture haunting her.

Her hands clutched at the dirt and leaves on the ground, as though not knowing what to do with themselves. She didn't have the sense to crawl away or sit herself up or ANYTHING. Terror gripped at her heart, but her head was still trying to catch up. There was just a throbbing pain that pulsed from the back of her head to her eyes, rendering her motor functions useless.

All she could do was lie there, tears leaking out of her eyes as she silently begged for someone to help her.

 _'Grunkle Stan…I wish you were here.'_

Her eyes fluttered halfway shut, just before the THING suddenly lifted its head and began backtracking like a terrified child caught getting into something it shouldn't, before turning tail and bolting into the night.

On her other side, Mabel heard soft, almost ghostlike footsteps approach, and the coldness in the air began to warm up until she felt like she was relaxing back in the warm sunshine. Instead of terror, she began to feel…comfort. Like the air was giving her a gentle hug.

As her eyes fluttered again, feeling the urge to take a nap in the warm sunlight, she could smell something familiar replacing that horrible death stench….pine oil and leather. She knew that scent, she thought to herself. She'd know it anywhere now…

She felt something kneel down next to her and tuck strong, gentle hands under her body before lifting her up. It was the oddest experience; it was like being lifted into air, with the strength of the hands being just a sensation instead of reality. But the warmth and comfort…THOSE were real.

Mabel leaned her head to the side, feeling it rest against a firm chest, and a small smile twitched at her lips. The familiar hold, the familiar smell, the familiar feeling of being so fully protected…

Her body relaxed as she was carried off slowly through the forest, her eyes opening a little wider, taking in the sight of a red and gold bolo tie, a strong jawline…but facial features that seemed blurred, like they were deciding what form to take and couldn't settle. She didn't need to see to know.

She already knew.

And he'd come for her.


	6. Chapter 6

Mabel regained consciousness, becoming aware that she was settled and something was touching the wound on her head where she'd fallen. It was warm, with a tingling sensation, almost like the faintest of rain drizzles on her forehead. She crinkled her nose, her lips twitching; it sort of tickled.

The headache from the blow faded gently, and she began to remember how she got hurt in the first place.

Falling asleep in the forest.

The forest getting dark.

That…THING chasing her.

Being saved.

 _'Grunkle Stan…'_

The smell of pine oil and leather made itself known, and Mabel instinctively curled up tighter against the warmth that was holding her. She wanted so badly for this to be real, for it to not be a dream, or a mild hallucination of her intense wishing…

Arms tightened around her, as though assuaging her sad thoughts, and she clenched her fingers into an article of clothing that felt familiar, but only half-there, like a vivid memory. She wanted so badly to open her eyes to see if it was true, but was so scared that if she did, it really WOULD be just another dream, another depressing, sad let-down…

"…please be real…" she whispered, sniffling softly. "Please be real…I cant take another dream, Grunkle Stan…they're so real…"

There was no answer, but Mabel felt a hand pet her head in reply, felt that sunshiny warmth comfort her trembling. Mabel took a deep, shaky breath and opened her eyes.

And saw her Grunkle Stan smiling sadly back at her.

All of Mabel's normal emotional responses—jumping, screaming, laughing—were absent, and all she could do was cry. It wasn't a dream. It was REAL. Her Grunkle Stan was HERE, holding her, taking care of her…!

She buried her face into his jacket, her body shaking with joy and quiet hysteria, feeling her Grunkle pet her hair comfortingly, letting her cry it out. Soon, she managed to get a strong enough hold on her emotions to wipe her eyes and look up at him again.

It WAS him. She KNEW it was. But there were differences that she hadn't noticed before.

First and most noticeable was that his body, while it FELT solid, it didn't LOOK it. His features were detailed out in a soft light, but everything between was almost transparent. Odder still was his face; the features remained the same, but the harder Mabel stared, the more she saw his face seemed to be rapidly changing in age, from young to old, and would be easy to miss at a first glance.

But the most noticeable difference was his eyes.

Instead of the cataract-greyed brown color, they were the deepest, darkest blue of the night sky with slivers of white-gold around the edges of the irises, like thin crescent moons. On impulse, Mabel glanced up at the sky, seeing an identical sliver of moon in the sky.

Her heart sank. This HAD to be a dream…or at very least, the stories of forest fae whisking children off in the dark were true. If the latter was true, then it was cruel to take the form of her Grunkle Stan to lead her into a false sense of security.

 _ **You really need to curb your imagination, sweetie.**_

Mabel jumped when she heard her Grunkle's voice in her head, looking up to see him giving her an amused, yet slightly sad look. Her hands prodded lightly at her head; that had been WEIRD. How had he—?

 _ **It's complicated, Mabel. Much more than I could ever tell you in a hundred years.**_ His expression became morose, and Mabel felt the urge to hug him until he didn't look so sad. But was he really…?

 _ **As close as I possibly can be**_ , he put in quietly. _**I'm not a malevolent forest spirit, or a trickster.**_

Mabel nibbled her lip, her hands wringing into her sweater. "…but…you're not human," she mumbled quietly. "…Grunkle Stan is human." She heard him give a mental sigh in her mind.

 _ **Grunkle Stan WAS human, sweetie**_ , he replied. _**What I am now…it's…difficult to explain.**_ He walked in silence, his pace slow and deliberate, Mabel noticed, like he was concentrating just to keep moving forward. _ **The closest I can explain is…that space between dreaming and waking up? When you can feel your bed beneath you, but still see your dreams in front of you. An…abstract construct of yourself, in that state, but permanently.**_

He wasn't kidding. That DID sound complicated. Mabel looked up at his face again, taking in the familiar expressions despite the different ages, feeling her body curl up again. "…why are you like this?" she asked softly.

He remained silent for a long while.

 _ **I owed a debt to a part of what I am now**_ , he finally said. _**Those who come here during the new moon are obligated to…stay.**_ His hold on her tightened. _ **That creature that went after you used to be human…unfortunately, he was filth in his human life. It only worsened after.**_

Mabel shivered at the thought of her Grunkle becoming anything like that THING.

 _ **I have no intention of becoming like it, sweetie**_ , he said comfortingly. _**I honestly didn't know what I would be like. This…is new to me. It's taking a lot of willpower just to keep this solid form.**_

Oh. That would explain why he was walking so slowly. Mabel suddenly felt bad. "…does it hurt?" she asked, prodding at his chest with her hand. "…being like this?"

 _ **No**_ , he replied. _**It doesn't hurt. To be honest, it's more like trying to stay awake when you're exhausted. Luckily, I've had thirty years to perfect ignoring tiredness by working on that portal during the night hours.**_ He smiled down at her. _**Don't feel bad, Mabel. I just want to get you home safely.**_

"…Can you come home now?" Mabel asked, her voice hopeful. "I mean…since you're like this…?" Her voice trailed off at the look of melancholy that came over his face.

 _ **I'm sorry, pumpkin**_ , he said softly. _**But I cant leave the forest. Ever. I can only take you as far as the border before I have to let you go.**_

Mabel felt tears well up, her desperation grasping at straws. "B…but I can visit you, right?" she asked. "And…and Dipper and Grunkle Ford…they…they miss you too….we miss you so much…!" She leaned her head against his shoulder, her tears sifting into his semi-corporeal form.

He was silent, not even his footfalls making any sound, as he weighed his words carefully. _**Mabel…it's for the absolute best that you…try not to cling to finding me**_ , he said delicately. _**I technically don't exist in your world anymore, sweetie…and I would beg you to please not follow where I go.**_ His expression became more morose.

 _ **Not to mention, Dipper and Stanford…you know them, Mabel. They would waste the rest of their lives to try to bring me back, and I don't want that for them. I know YOU don't want that for them. And I don't want that for YOU.**_

Mabel let out a soft, pathetic wail into his shoulder, knowing he was completely right. Her brother and great-uncle's obsession with Gravity Falls was already too deep to be considered anywhere NEAR healthy…she could already imagine Dipper and Grunkle Ford working themselves to death trying to find a way to change what couldn't be changed, delving deeper into things they shouldn't, wasting year after year on the impossible…

"…It's not fair…!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "It's not fair! Whoever wrote those rules are dumb, and need a good kick in the—"

 _ **I know**_ , he said, hugging her tightly, petting her head. _**I know how unfair it is, Mabel…but as unfair as it is, I was still given lenience, and allowed time to bring my brother back. I came back here willingly, sweetie. I followed through with dignity, and I intend to continue this with dignity.**_ He kissed her head softly, smiling.

 _ **Even when you cant see me, I'll still be watching over you. I'll be watching Dipper, and Stanford too. I'll never let anything hurt you when you're in Gravity Falls.**_ He leaned back, giving her a mischievous look. _ **But that doesn't mean you can be reckless, y'hear? If I see any of you being dumb, you'll bet I'll find a way to give you guys a kick in the rear end. We're Pines. We might be magnets for trouble, but we're not dumb, right?**_

Mabel let out a shaky laugh, nodding. "Right," she replied, wiping her eyes. "…Grunkle Ford might need a stronger kick in the pants. He's…not doing so well. He misses you."

 _ **I know. But that doesn't mean he's excused from performing his Grunkle duties to you kids. And…maybe…when he's let it settle in that nothing can be done about it…I'll let him know. Maybe when he's like ninety and has no more life to waste.**_

"That's playing pretty dirty," Mabel remarked.

 _ **It's the only way a Pines can play, have I taught you NOTHING?**_

Mabel giggled, hugging him again before sighing sadly. "…I'm gonna miss seeing you, Grunkle Stan," she murmured quietly.

 _ **And I'll miss talking to you. But the 'not wasting your life' thing applies to you too, knucklehead. I want you to KNOW that I'm not suffering, and I'm right here in Gravity Falls. If you ever just feel like venting out to the air after a bad day, I'll be there to listen. But I want you to be HAPPY. Can you do that for me, Mabel? Be happy?**_

She nodded, giving him a brave smile. "…I think I can manage," she replied. "…on one condition."

 _ **I've taught you too much. Lay it on me, sweetie.**_

"…at least ONCE…in the future sometime…you talk to me like we're talking now…and you tell me EVERYTHING, as best as you can explain it," Mabel said. "…I wont tell Dipper or Grunkle Ford if you don't want me to…but I'd just like to know…and maybe try to understand. Okay?"

 _ **It's not exactly secret knowledge**_ , he replied. _**It's just never been given to those who aren't taken. You've got a deal.**_

"Good." Mabel looked up when she saw the light of the Shack's back porch through the trees, feeling a jolt of separation anxiety. "Grunkle Stan—"

 _ **Shhh…**_ He hugged her tightly, petting her head. _**Just remember, okay? That I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, Mabel. I promise. Trust me?**_

Mabel clung to him tightly, taking a shaky breath. "…I trust you," she said. Her Grunkle Stan kissed her cheek and set her down on the ground.

 _ **Go on, then. They're looking for you. And Mabel...**_

Mabel looked up at the sudden serious tone, swallowing hard when she saw the crescent slivers in his eyes glow brighter.

 _ **Don't ever come here during the new moon. No matter WHAT. Promise me this.**_

She nodded. "I promise," she said before hugging his middle tightly. She felt him pat her head before stepping back. "…Goodbye, Grunkle Stan."

He smiled. **Goodbye, Mabel** , he said, taking a step back, his image dissolving like mist, leaving behind just a patch of warm air and the scent of pine oil and leather.

Mabel forced her tears back, inhaling that familiar scent one more time before hurrying out of the woods and onto the Shack property just as the porch door opened and Dipper poked his head out, looking frantic.

"GRUNKLE FORD!" he shouted back into the house. "I FOUND HER, SHE'S HERE!" He hurried out to her, looking her over for injury. "Mabel, where the heck have you BEEN? I…we've…" His hands clenched into the sleeves of her sweater, like he was afraid she had vanished into thin air like Grunkle Stan had.

Mabel didn't have time to answer before Ford came barreling out of the house and up to Mabel, looking her over like Dipper had, his face pale with panic. "Mabel, where—why didn't you tell us you were—we were worried—!" He halted his train wreck of a thought process, dropping to his knees and hugging her tightly. "...don't do that again," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "…I couldn't take it if one of you got hurt…"

Mabel hugged him back. "…'m sorry, Grunkle Ford," she said softly. "I just fell asleep an' lost track of time. I wont do it again."

Ford took a moment to rein in his emotions, standing up. "Let's get you inside, then," he said, holding Mabel's shoulder in one hand and Dipper's in the other. "You must be hungry…even though it's a bit past dinnertime…"

"I don't mind a late dinner," Mabel said. "Maybe…we could watch a movie while we eat. Together."

Dipper's hand reached up and gripped onto Ford's sleeve almost childishly. "…Can we?" he asked. Ford glanced between them before smiling.

"Sure thing," he replied softly. "You two go pick out a movie, I'll figure something out for dinner."

Mabel beamed, hugging his middle tightly before grabbing Dipper's hand and running inside to scrounge around the movie collection. Ford smiled after them before heading into the kitchen, taking a few things out of the fridge and making a mental note to go grocery shopping later.

While the food cooked, he slipped Journal 3 out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open to the back, where Stanley's entry was.

 **DO NOT EVER GO INTO THE FOREST DURING THE NEW MOON**

The warning was clear and simple, yet like a child who was told not to do something, he instinctively wanted to know what and why. Why the new moon? And what significance did it…?

His train of thought trailed off as he looked out the window and saw the sliver of moon in the sky, the gears in his head turning. If that was a waxing crescent, that would mean the day Stanley vanished—as well as perhaps the incident thirty years ago—would have to have been on the new moon.

Wracking his memories back almost forty years ago, Ford tried to think if there was ever a time he did his nighttime forest treks during a new moon. No, he mustn't have…perhaps six and a half years of sheer dumb luck had prevented him from being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But Stanley HAD, somehow lived to tell about it, and wrote the warning down, just in case.

And instantly, Ford wanted to know what was out there.

A shudder ran through him, and he could practically hear Stanley growl _'Don't you fucking do it, Sixer!'_

God, and that message was practically a last request…

Ford looked up when he heard the twins shout that they'd found a movie, and quickly finished up dinner, shoving his scientific curiosity to the back of his mind.

He promised he'd be a good Grunkle to the kids. He could deal with this mystery later.


	7. Chapter 7

Mabel worked with a strong conviction to keep the spirits up with her brother and great-uncle, and she was happy when her infectious positivity seemed to rub off on them somewhat. Dipper started smiling more, and Ford went down into the basement less frequently, opting instead to stay topside and learn how to function like a normal person.

…Mabel's words, not his.

If anything, his cooking skills improved, and he began getting caught up on modern news and trends. He took the kids out into the town for groceries—after a few practice rounds up and down the dirt road to remember how to drive again—and Mabel insisted on picking up a few books for him while Dipper pointed out a few newer pieces of technology that could be of interest.

The only uncomfortable part of the outing was being mistaken for his brother several times, but luckily, nobody went in-depth with the conversations. Still, it suddenly hit him while he was in the bookstore that this was going to be a permanent thing, being taken for his brother. The title of Stanford Pines being handed back and forth as more of an alias rather than an identity.

It was a sobering thought. Ford was now faced with the reality of having to live in his brother's shadow instead of the other way around. Just from anecdotes from the niblings, Stanley had been a very well-known person. Not always well-liked during his worst, but well-received during his best.

Mabel mentioned he threw pretty popular parties; so good, in fact, that people kept coming for each one, even if they had to pay to get in. The idea of the whole town in and around his house, so close to the basement door, made Ford nervous, and he was having no plans on throwing a party.

Among the people of Gravity Falls, it was the younger half that seemed to like Stanley the best. After Mabel came back with her friends with the unicorn hair, they stuck around for a bit while he and Dipper set up the barrier. He came back inside and saw Stanley and the girls having fun playing poker over the unicorn treasure—what Stanley hadn't hoarded off, anyway.

He had admittedly been curious enough by the sight to observe for a spell, seeing how comfortable the kids were joking around with him, stealing some of his gold pieces when he wasn't looking, and snitching some of his snacks. Stanley in turn gave Grenda a punching tip, told Candy how to hide her tell, and kept harping at Wendy to keep the bag of ice on her black eye before purposely throwing his hand so Mabel could win the round.

Ford absently wondered how Stanley would have fared being a father. He was certainly much better with kids than their own father was. He almost started a thought about why Stanley didn't find someone and settle down before shutting himself up. Stanley was single-mindedly focused on getting him back, and life-indebted to some entity and could be taken at any time in the past thirty years.

He checked to make sure the kids were busy—Mabel was flipping through a knitting pattern magazine and Dipper was eyeballs-deep in the science section of the bookstore—before hurrying to the bathroom and locking himself in, forcing himself to take several deep, calming breaths.

It served him right, finally taking consideration for his brother and all that he did and sacrificed, only when he was gone. Being so out of touch with human—or even other sentient empathetic—interaction for so long and focusing primarily on his scientific pursuits only made things worse in dealing with his own shortcomings and how to react to having his paradigms shattered.

Before, it was so easy. Feel nothing, react coldly, bury emotions. _Be like Dad_. God, it was no wonder Stanley sometimes looked apprehensive about being around him before he vanished…

Now, all he could do was cry in reaction to anything upsetting. There was no use trying to close the floodgates when the water's already gushing through and never stopping.

How Stanley could have all those emotions and still control them and focus on being positive for the kids' sakes, he'll never know.

Ford jumped when he heard a soft knocking on the door.

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper's voice murmured through. "…Do you need to go home now?"

Ford read through those lines easily; Dipper knew he was upset, and was giving him an out. He wiped his face, rubbing his eyes before putting his glasses back on. "I'm…I'm fine, Dipper," he replied, then swallowed hard, forcing his voice to remain somewhat upbeat. "Did you and Mabel find anything you liked?"

"…nothing worth buying," Dipper replied. "We can go now." _'We wont make you stay if you need to go home.'_

Ford sighed, opening the door, seeing Dipper standing there quietly, looking worried. He gave the boy a brave smile before heading out with him. Mabel hurried up, having abandoned the small stack of magazines and pattern books she had been carrying, slipping her hand into his comfortingly.

As he walked the twins out to the car, he inwardly marveled at how empathetic the two were. All day, though they'd been out and about, they seemed to know exactly when he needed to leave, when he needed a distraction, and when it was okay to let him converse. He felt a touch guilty that even now that he was taking up the caregiver mantle, they were still taking care of HIM.

He drove home in silence, feeling drained from the day, wondering how he was going to be able to keep up appearances in the future to come.

* * *

Mabel crept downstairs quietly, skipping all the creaky steps to avoid waking her brother up. Dipper had become hyper-vigilant and almost paranoid at night recently, and she was just lucky that years of top-bunking taught her how to creep out of bed without disturbing him.

She had been awake for the past two hours, staring pointlessly at the ceiling, mulling over the outing earlier. It seemed to be going well, until she and Dipper looked up to see Ford practically sprinting for the bathroom. They gave him about five minutes before Dipper headed on to make sure he was alright.

Of course he wasn't alright. He hadn't been alright since the day they found out Grunkle Stan was gone. Sure, he'd snapped out of his numb spell, but Mabel could tell he was hiding a lot.

Oh, how badly she wanted to take Dipper and Grunkle Ford into the woods and beg Grunkle Stan to come out just to explain a few things…but she had promised him she wouldn't. Grunkle Stan was right about those two; they obsessed too much over things, and would waste their lives trying to change something that couldn't be changed.

Mabel rubbed her arms quietly, mulling over the experience, already missing the safe warmth of Grunkle Stan's presence. She hoped a cup of hot cocoa would at least somewhat help. She walked into the kitchen and rummaged around for a clean cup and a saucepan, pausing before she put it on the stove when she heard a noise from inside the house.

Settling the pan down quietly, she followed the sound to Grunkle Ford's room across the house, seeing the door slightly ajar and a dim, flickering light dancing around the edges of the door. She crept up to the door, peeking in through the crack in the door.

Ford was sitting on the floor with Journal 1 open in front of him, methodically tearing out pages and burning them with a match. Tear tracks on his face were illuminated by the fires he set, watching each page turn to ashes before tearing out the next in line.

Mabel was suddenly reminded of the part in Grunkle Stan's story, about how he was going to burn the journal…is that why Grunkle Ford was doing it? Because it's what Grunkle Stan would have done? She bit her lip hard, feeling tears of her own well up in her eyes, hating seeing her great-uncle crying. He looked like it was physically hurting to tear out the pages and burn them…like he was purposely torturing himself.

THAT isn't what Grunkle Stan would want.

Mabel wiped her eyes, pushing the door open, the loud creek making Ford jump and drop the burning page he had started, where it finished smoldering on the floor before going out.

"M…Mabel…" Ford stammered, his hands twitching like he didn't know whether he wanted to hide the evidence of what he was doing or wipe his face first. Mabel gave him a third option, walking over and hugging his neck tightly, giving an open invitation to hug her back.

He did so, feeling a rush of shame and embarrassment rise up at having been caught. "I…I was…" _Indulging in_ _self-flagellation as some demented form of penance for my sins._

Mabel just hugged him tighter. "…you don't have to," she said softly. "…Please don't do this to yourself, Grunkle Ford…"

Ford tightened his arms around her, swallowing hard. "…yes…I have to…" he replied thickly. "…if…I burn them, I wont have anything tempting me ever again…it wont have that power over me anymore…" God, why was he saying these things?! He didn't need to be burdening a child with those morbid existential musings…!

Mabel didn't seem to care about the morbidity of it all. She let go of his neck and settled in his lap, picking up what remained of the torn journal, closing it quietly. "…there's nothing wrong with the journals," she said, leaning back against his chest. "The problem is getting too big for your britches with stuff you don't understand."

Ford blinked, having not expected that response. Quite a mature statement to make, to be honest. "Er…I wasn't…I was…"

Mabel sighed quietly. "…there's no shame in admitting you're in over your head," she said, running her hand over the journal's cover. "…Some mysteries aren't worth solving…"

Ford felt his hand instinctively go to his breast pocket, where Stanley's last letter to him was folded and tucked away, wondering how in the world she would know the last line of that letter. He hadn't shared the letter with the twins, feeling childishly selfish in wanting to keep THAT to himself…

But still, what were the odds that she'd say the same thing Stanley would?

Mabel tipped her head back to look at him. "You like the paranormal," she said matter-of-factly. "There's nothing wrong with that. Kinda like with any other job, it can get dangerous…but…when something FEELS like it's too much for you to deal with…then maybe you shouldn't dig in so deep you cant get out." She lowered her head, looking contemplatively sad. "…I don't wanna lose you too."

Ford's arms tightened around her before he even knew what he was doing, hugging her to him. "…It…wont be like that," he replied firmly, though his voice shook slightly. "…not anymore…I promise." He stared at the insignia on the cover of the journal, feeling a soft flicker of regret at burning some of the pages, but at least not the overwhelming covetous panic at the sight of Stanley about to burn it. He supposed it was a normal reaction; he HAD spent so much time searching Gravity Falls, put so much of his heart and soul into his work…

Mabel opened the journal again, flipping back to the pages on unicorns, grimacing. "…Grunkle Ford? We can burn THESE pages. Unicorns are jerks and deserve to have their whole stupid realm burned to the ground." There was a haunted hardness to her voice that would make men of low constitution shudder with terror.

Ford nodded. "Agreed," he said, sounding just as haunted, watching with not an ounce of regret this time as Mabel tore the pages out, settling back as they watched those pages burn. "…Mabel? Whatever they said to you, they were sadly mistaken. You are a good person."

Mabel smiled, leaning back against him tiredly. "…so are you," she replied, yawning. "…a couple of mistakes doesn't make you a bad person, as long as you're sorry for 'em." She closed her eyes, snuggling into his jacket.

Ford sat in silence, feeling…SOMETHING. He didn't know if it was sadness or happiness or what, but all he could do was sit there and watch the smoke from the burning pages sift in the air, listen to Mabel's quiet sleep breathing, and feel like, SOMEHOW, he'd been forgiven for something.


	8. Chapter 8

Stanford quietly looked through the personal items that were left by Stanley, something he had been neglecting to do since his brother vanished, trying to combat the heaviness in his heart by instead focusing on getting to know his twin. It was forty-odd years too late, but he tried to focus on the positive side of it rather than wade further into the pool of guilt.

As far as he knew, Stanley hadn't taken much of anything with him when he vanished. Ford wasn't too surprised; what were the use of earthly possessions when you apparently departed to another plane of existence?

Ugh, don't think 'departed', it made it sound like Stanley was dead…

Ford sat back in the office chair emptying out drawers, having already found Stanley's whiskey stash, and found a small tumbler next to the bottle with sticky resin on the bottom of the glass. He wondered if Stanley had taken a shot of whiskey at this very desk that night…considering the folder and letter left for Ford to find, it was a possibility.

Against his better judgement, Ford poured himself half a tumbler into the glass and sipped it, grimacing slightly at the taste. Sure, some of the things he'd had dimension-hopping had a burn to it, but even when he was using alcohol as a means to cope with Bill's betrayal, he wasn't very good at holding his whiskey. But sitting in this chair, sipping from the same glass his brother had a week and a half ago, made him feel…closer. More connected. Hopeful that maybe a recreation universal déjà vu would do something for him.

He took small, quiet sips as he rummaged through the drawers and boxes, finding a grab-bag of interests in each one. One box contained several books on how to create and run one's own business, accounting, and even his own copy of the Glass Shard Beach High School yearbook.

Ford turned the pages, seeing a few candid photos of the school, including a few of him and Stanley. One at the start of the school year, where Stanley was standing on the hood of his car holding up a handmade sign that read **SENIORS RULE!**. He saw himself in the photo leaning against the car door, looking up at his teenage brother with fondness.

Another photo showed the senior trip to New York City, depicting himself staring down at a list of attractions they would see while Stanley was looking upward, eyes shining even in the photo, pointing at something that interested him.

A photo from the senior prom, right after he got punch thrown in his face and Stanley did the same without another thought, the picture depicting them playfully dancing with each other since their own dates were a bust.

Ford swallowed hard when he saw the next photo down the timeline, of the day he won the school science fair. Stanley had his arm around his shoulders, smiling and pointing to him as if to tell the cameraman _'Look here, look what my brother did! Aint he the smartest guy in Jersey?'_ …'As if' nothing, that's exactly what he said. Ford remembered having to practically force Stanley not to hoist him up on his shoulders and parade him around.

…how could he have forgotten that? That wasn't Stanley riding on his coat tails, taking partial credit for HIS hard work…it was Stanley showing him off, wanting everyone to know what Ford could do. That was someone who was PROUD, not jealous.

He quietly flipped through the pages until he got to the seniors' page, seeing his own senior photo. In the space next to his, under 'Stanley Pines', was a blank box with no picture. No picture, no future.

" _IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE US FOREVER, YOU RUINED MY LIFE!"_

He put the glass down, rubbing the bride of his nose, his temples already pounding. No, no, don't go there, Stanford…

The yearbook slipped from his lap and onto the floor. He sighed, leaning down and picking it up, pausing when a photo he hadn't noticed before caught his eye.

He remembered it as a weird day when a school club—'The Future of the World'—walked around the school and had kids write down what they wanted to be in the future on a dry-erase board. There were just small wallet-sized pictures peppering the page, of some students having written down things like 'doctor', 'teacher', 'engineer'…

He didn't know why he hadn't noticed this page before, but that was definitely Stanley in one of the pictures, holding up the board with something written on it. Unfortunately, it would seem Stanley DID know about this picture, and had taken a Sharpie to whatever was written on the board.

What had he written? Something to do with them exploring on a boat? Or maybe something completely different, a secret dream he never told anyone else?

Ford sighed, closing the yearbook and putting it back into a box before knocking back the rest of the whiskey in the glass and sorting through more things, most of which were of no consequence. He did take pause with the box full of fake IDs and passports, as well as the news clipping detailing the 'death' of Stan Pines.

It seemed another thing they shared was an inability to rid themselves of things from the past, no matter how painful they served as reminders. He debated for a good while before pushing the box to the 'get rid of' pile. None of these were needed anymore. His brother was Stanley Pines, not any of these aliases. And he wasn't DEAD.

Ford poked around until all of the drawers and cabinets were clear, electing to keep Stanley's portrait up on the wall, as ridiculous as it was, and made a move to take down the OBVIOUSLY fake taxidermy head from the wall, jerking back when the right antler shifted and a panel on the wall turned, showing a hidden security system.

It was nothing he installed, so he figured Stanley must have put it in himself at some point. The screen was blank, but there was an unmarked tape sticking out of the VCR. He absently wondered what it had recorded, and pushed it in, letting it rewind before pressing PLAY.

It was mostly nothing of interest, save for a few times one of the twins came running back and forth, and seeing himself go in and out of the basement. He swallowed hard when he saw himself on the screen carrying his journal and a cup of coffee to the basement door, realizing that this was the day Stanley vanished. He pressed FAST FORWARD on the remote until it was almost midnight, then pressed PLAY again.

He saw Stanley walk into the gift shop, dressed immaculately in his finest work clothes, and look around at the large room like he was remembering how it looked like before turning to the vending machine. He saw, clear as day, Stanley kiss his fingers and put them on the machine before turning and walking out through the back door.

And that was that.

Ford stared at the screen for the longest time before turning it off and sitting back. He didn't know how he felt…a mix of terrible, for having practically blown Stanley off on his last day here, but he also felt…okay.

It was an odd feeling…it was an okay sort of relief that Stanley wasn't torn away kicking and screaming…instead, he left with a sort of calm dignity, and was thoughtful enough to leave that kiss on the vending machine for HIM.

Ford had the note, and that was a valuable keepsake of his brother…now he had this tape so he could SEE his twin. He took the tape out and held it in his hands, seeing his vision blur from tears falling on the lenses of his glasses. He paid it no heed for a good long while, then tucked the tape into his pocket and cleaned off his glasses, shutting the security slot and taking the small throwaway box out of the office.

This was a good thing, he told himself. He managed to get through Stanley's office, that was GOOD. If he could do THIS, going through Stanley's bedroom would be bearable now…

He passed the twins on the way out to the fire pit—as though he'd put ANYTHING of Stanley's in the garbage—and saw that Mabel was doodling on the floor with her crayons. He did a double-take when he saw that it was a picture of her and Dipper bursting out of a birthday cake with the number 13 on it.

Oh. That's right. Their birthday was coming up in about a week.

That meant that summer was ending. And they'd have to go home.

And he'd be alone...

 _'Reconnect with your family'._

He swallowed hard, tightening his grip on the box as he carried it to the fire pit, the line from Stanley's letter flitting across his mind. God, it seemed like every internal crisis he had, Stanley had the response in that letter…

He set the box aside for later, heading back inside to start dinner, glancing back every so often at the kids. Mabel had finished her drawing and was doodling something else while Dipper alternated between watching something on TV and reading through one of his books.

"…So your birthday is coming up," he began in an awkward semblance of conversational starter. "…do you have any plans?"

"…I was thinking of a party," Mabel replied, sounding as though it was just a thought and not a solid plan.

Dipper snorted softly. "Last party we threw here, we had zombies," he said. "I don't think Grunkle Stan would let us—" He broke off with an audible choke, his expression fighting to stay neutral but failing miserably. His book dropped from his hands, his shoulders shaking. "I'm….I'm sorry, Grunkle Ford, I didn't mean—"

"Dipper, it's alright," Ford reassured, hurrying over to Dipper, kneeling down so he could look the boy in the eye. "It's alright. Hey." He took a kerchief out of his pocket and gave it to Dipper. "…Dipper, no one's going to be upset if you talk about him. I'd actually be more upset if you DIDN'T." He gave Dipper a brave smile. "…Go on, you can finish your thought."

He waited while Dipper dried his face and got his emotions under control. Dipper wrung the kerchief in his hands, his eyes downcast. "…I…was just thinking that G…Grunkle Stan wouldn't be thrilled with a party…after the zombie thing…" He chewed his lip hard. "That…was my fault…"

Mabel walked up and hugged him tightly. "Oh, cheer up, Dipdop," she said smiling, though her eyes looked a little wet. "You know that past the horrible life-threatening part of it, he had fun singing karaoke with us to explode their heads!" She giggled a little. "Didja know I caught him singing 'Taking Over Midnight' when he thought no one was listening? I caught it on tape."

Dipper let out a bark of choked laugher, wiping his face again. "…yeah," he murmured, sniffling. "…I just meant…" He trailed off quietly, wringing his hands. Mabel hugged him again.

"…Dipper, I don't think it would be…disrespectful or whatever, if we had a party here," she said delicately. "Wendy told me he says he'll never throw another party after EVERY party he throws. Let's face it. It's the cleanup he hates." She smiled when Dipper laughed again. "We'll just…you know. Make sure we don't make a big mess this time around." She paused, glancing at Ford. "…I mean, if—"

"You two can have a party if you want," Ford quickly put in. "It's your birthday, and you two deserve it." He ruffled their hair, standing up. "Just let me know what you'd like, and I'll arrange it, alright?" He headed back into the kitchen to finish up dinner, mulling over his thoughts as he heard the twins quietly plan.

A party here. HE'D be throwing it. Sweet Moses, what was he going to DO?


	9. Chapter 9

Mabel quietly snuck down the stairs, craning her neck slightly around the corner to make sure the door to Grunkle Ford's room was shut before easing the front door open and slipping out. She shut the door behind her, fetched the lantern from the hook next to the door, and quietly lit it with a match before walking off the porch and up to the border of the forest, sitting down on the grass with the lantern next to her.

"…Hey, Grunkle Stan," she said quietly, tucking her nightgown over knees and hugging them. "Dunno if you're busy doing immortal forest guardian stuff or not…I mean, if I were an immortal forest guardian, I'd be pranking the gnomes or setting the unicorn realm on fire…but yeah…"

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, exhaling heavily. "…You said if I wanted to rant, I could, so…I am. Kinda seemed more useful than writing it in a diary, since I know for sure someone will listen, you know?" She rubbed her arms, going silent for a few moments.

"…So, the birthday party might be a bust. Candy is going to band camp for the last week of summer, and Grenda is flying to Austria to visit her boyfriend. They wont even be back in time to see us off when we leave. Not to mention when I visited Wendy, she told me things about high school and growing up…and none of it sounded good.

"It just…made me realize that this summer in Gravity Falls was my last summer as a kid. I'm turning thirteen in a week, I'm going back to Piedmont, where all of my old friends have already started 'growing up' and leaving me behind, and…I don't know if I'm READY to grow up." She wiped at her eyes, sniffling softly.

"I know, I know…I'll grow at my own pace and in my own time…but it just feels so BAD when I'm the last one to do it. Even Dipper's growing up faster than me. He's going to be taking advanced math and science classes, and I even heard Mom and Dad discuss maybe skipping him a grade or two next year. So…so where does that leave ME?"

Mabel wiped her eyes again, her sleeve starting to get damp. "Gravity Falls is the ONLY place I've REALLY felt at home since I turned twelve! I have REAL friends here, people who are just as weird as me, an' I had YOU. YOU understood me, probably more than Dipper even does! You cant come with us to Piedmont, Grunkle Stan, you have to stay HERE…an' you cant be with me in California like you can HERE! Not like I can call you, or write to you...now I can only kinda be with you for a couple of months once a YEAR! And it's not FAIR!"

She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. "W…what am I supposed to do NOW? I'm goin' back home to parents who don't understand me, a school with no real friends, and a brother who might skip a few grades and go to another school entirely!" She muffled a wail into her sleeves. "I don't wanna say goodbye to Gravity Falls! I don't wanna say goodbye to YOU, or Grunkle Ford, or ANYONE!"

Mabel cried into her sleeves, biting her lip to stop the noisy sobs from coming. "G…Grunkle Stan…I…I want you b-back…!" she wailed, her voice muffled into her arms. "I…I know I p-promised I'd live an' be happy…b-but I'm n-not ready…! Y…you just LEFT…I w-wasn't READY! I c-cant HELP b-but miss you!" She looked up, out into the darkness of the woods, hoping—praying—she'd see a glimmer of her Grunkle out there.

But there was nothing.

She let out a fresh wail, not bothering to muffle her cries this time. "Grunkle Stan…answer me…! P-please…! PLEASE—!"

"Mabel!"

Ford ran off the porch, hurrying up to his niece and scooping her up in his arms, holding her tightly, giving the dark forest a wary look before checking on her, hoping there was no sign of harm or—heavens forbid—possession, feeling a wave of relief when she showed no indication of either, tucking her head under his chin and rocking her quietly.

"Mabel, shhh," he said softly, petting her hair, trying to calm her crying. "Shhh, it's okay, sweetie, it's okay…"

Mabel buried her face into his sweater, feeling another wave of sobs rise up at the term of endearment, all of the emotions of the past couple of days coming out all at once, things that ran the gamut of minor inconveniences to major disappointments and hurts being drained from her head and her heart, leaving a large wet patch on his front that he couldn't care less about.

Ford held and shushed her quietly until she calmed down, starting to feel shaken at what he'd just witnessed. He had just FELT something was wrong, like an internal alarm was sounding off; an alarm that sounded faintly like a familiar whisper telling him to wake up and wake up NOW. He ran out of his room and managed to spot the dim lantern light by the forest, stepping outside and hearing Mabel talking to herself.

….rather, talking to the forest. It was soft and faint, but as soon as he heard her crying for Stanley…

God, he'd thought the worst…everything from sleepwalking to hallucinating to downright possession ran through his mind, and now only to find she was out here, crying herself ill over heartsickness, missing Stanley after a couple bad days for her…

 _'I cant do this Stanley…'_ he thought helplessly. _'It's not me that can make her feel better! I don't know what to DO!'_ He clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep his own emotions under control for Mabel's sake. _'This is all MY fault! Why do the children have to suffer for this too!? It's not FAIR!'_

"…I'm so sorry, Mabel…" he murmured. "…I don't know what to do…" He let out a shaky breath. "I'm so useless to you kids…I couldn't look after my own brother...and still he trusts me enough with the two most important things in his life…" He petted her hair quietly, rocking her quietly. "You and Dipper take care of me more than I take care of you…I don't even now how I'm going to function when you and your brother leave…"

He felt hot, angry tears run down his face, his jaw quivering from the effort he was wasting trying to keep them at bay. "…You two are all I have left…"

Mabel curled up tighter, feeling drained and exhausted, but not so much as to lose her empathy. She felt so careless, forgetting that when she and Dipper left Gravity Falls, they'd be leaving Grunkle Ford behind too. She shifted around in his hold, curling her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly.

"…you do just fine," she replied softly. "You're trying…that's…that's what matters, right…?" She forced a brave smile on her face before letting it drop. "…We're a hot mess, aren't we?"

Ford's breath hitched somewhere between a laugh and a sob, hugging her tighter. "…I…couldn't describe it better myself," he replied. "Yes. Yes we are. Just a bunch of hot messes, unable to grieve properly."

Mabel leaned her head on his shoulder, going lax. "…'m tired," she mumbled. Ford sighed, reaching over and grabbing the lantern with one hand, tucking Mabel closer to him with the other before standing up, wincing at the slight pain in his knees, hating the reminder of his age.

"Then let's get you to bed, sweetie," he replied. "…maybe tomorrow, we can revamp your birthday plans with Dipper. We'll find some way to make it special, okay?"

Mabel hugged his neck, nodding. "M'kay," she murmured. "…You're gonna be there. Makes it special already."

Ford smiled, feeling a little mend in his heart as he headed back to the Shack.

Mabel blinked her eyes heavily, feeling the weight of depression lift off her, but still leaving her exhausted. She rested her head on her Grunkle Ford's shoulder as he carried her inside, her eyes flickering to the darkness of the woods one last time.

Through the trees, she spotted two softly-glowing lights, shaped faintly like the half-moon hanging in the sky. Through her heavy muffled exhaustion, she managed a soft smile.

He'd heard her after all.

* * *

Ford tiptoed up into the attic, trying to be as quiet as possible as he settled Mabel back in bed, relieved that she had gone to sleep. He was curious about the hint of a smile on her face, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If she was feeling better, all the better for her.

He tucked her in, nudging one of her many stuffed animals in beside her as a comfort object before turning to check on Dipper, feeling a rush of panic when he saw that the bed was empty.

Ford flexed his hands tightly, hurrying down as quietly as possible to avoid waking Mabel up again, about to head downstairs when he noticed his brother's bedroom door cracked open.

He'd left the door shut tight all this time, and as far as he knew, neither of the twins made a habit of going in there…

…as far as he KNEW.

He crept up to the door, his hands shaking. He still hadn't gotten around to going through this room yet; he just couldn't bear to. Inside, he heard soft, muffled noises, knowing enough from the twins to know, to his relief, that it was Dipper.

Some relief. His nephew was having a breakdown, same as the boy's sister. There shouldn't be any relief in that fact.

He creaked the door open, seeing Dipper's silhouette from the dim light of the window. Dipper was sitting on Stanley's bed, his small frame shaking with muffled crying. Ford crept in, anxious that Dipper was crying so hard he didn't notice, and gently reached out, touching the boy's shoulder.

Dipper jumped with a startled yelp, looking up with wide, soaked eyes, and Ford could see both pain and fear in them.

"I…I'm s-sorry…!" Dipper stammered, tucking his arms in close like he was afraid…of what? "'m sorry, I…I didn't mean to…to be in here…!"

Is that was that was about? That he was afraid Ford would be angry for being in here?

Ford realized with a start that Dipper seemed to apologize every time Stanley was casually brought up in conversation, or when something concerned Stanley's personal items, or old wishes…

Dipper was afraid of bringing up Stanley to him.

"Oh…Dipper, no…" Ford said, sitting down next to him, almost wincing when Dipper flinched slightly and curled up on himself tighter. "…Dipper…you…don't need to apologize for being in here…"

Dipper's arms were tucked against his body, his fingertips pressing against his lips, looking like a frightened animal caught in a trap, worrying Ford further. Ford cautiously reached up and put a hand on Dipper's shoulder again, just resting it there to show he meant no harm. "…Dipper…talk to me," he said quietly. "…what's wrong?"

He could feel Dipper's body shaking under his hand, and began wondering just what was terrifying the boy so much. Dipper let out a shaky breath before taking another in, more tears running down his face.

"…'m sorry…" Dipper whimpered. "…h…haven't slept…in m'own bed for days...I've….been in here…" He clenched his eyes shut, letting out a choked sob. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…!"

Ford let out a heavy breath, extending his hand to Dipper's far shoulder, gently leaning Dipper to him. "…Dipper, why would I be mad about that?" he asked quietly. "…if…it makes you feel better sleeping in here, then by all means…" He sighed softly. "…then at least one of us isn't afraid to come in here…"

Dipper sniffled, his breath hitching sharply. "…I…I just…" he stammered, his hands wiping at his soaked face, doing nothing but smearing the tears everywhere. "…was…was it me…? Something…something I did…?"

Ford stared down at Dipper's head, shocked. "…what are you talking about?" he demanded. "Dipper, this wasn't your fault! You didn't do anything wrong!"

"THEN WHY IS HE GONE!?" Dipper shouted, pressing his hands to his eyes. "He's…why would he be GONE, then!?" He scrubbed at his face before pulling his hands away, staring at them like they had just committed a heinous atrocity. "…everything w-was normal…before I found that journal…I p-put everyone in danger b-because of ME…!"

"Dipper, I'm going to stop you right there," Ford said firmly, his hand tightening on Dipper's shoulder, just enough to get the boy's attention. "Listen to me, alright? Look at me." He waited until Dipper looked up, seeing with a haunting realization that this was what he saw in his reflection during his darkest days here, before he had called for Stanley to come thirty years ago.

Like he had caused all the problems in the world.

"…Dipper…this isn't your fault," he said. "If you blame yourself, if you blame the journals, then blame ME."

"What? NO, I didn't mean—"

"DIPPER." Ford closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. "…Dipper, I am under no illusions that everything I did was good and for unselfish intentions. I made stupid, arrogant, selfish mistakes…mistakes that almost caused the end of the world…mistakes that cost me thirty years of normalcy…mistakes that…cost me my brother. More than once."

He curled his other arm around Dipper, hugging the boy to him. "…Dipper, you don't have to put the blame on your shoulders," he said quietly. "…Stanley's…leaving…was set in stone thirty years ago, before you were even born. It had nothing to do with you." He swallowed hard. "…In fact…I would even bet that you made his summer here better than any he'd had for over forty years."

"…no…"

"Yes. I might've been a shortsighted idiot when I came back out of that portal, but I'd have to be completely blind not to see the joy you kids gave him. You and Mabel were the light of his life."

Dipper sniffled, shaking from fresh tears. "…that…just makes it hurt more…" he stammered. "…b…because I…I was so AWFUL to him sometimes…" He shut his eyes tightly. "I…thought so LITTLE of him sometimes…I even thought he was starting the portal up for something EVIL…I FOUGHT him, said HORRIBLE things…!"

"And he forgave you!" Ford patted Dipper's head comfortingly. "Anyone could see that. He understood, Dipper. He knew you were scared, he knew how bad it all looked. He didn't hold that against you. He loves you."

Dipper tucked his knees to his chest, hugging them. "…I…made him feel like I liked you…better than him…" He sniffled again, resting his head on his knees. "…'s not true…I swear, 's not true…"

Ford closed his eyes, feeling heavily drained. True, before, he'd had that black-and-white, 'Team Ford' vs 'Team Stan' mindset when it came to the niblings, but he wasn't as stupid now as he was then. Dipper had that blind hero-worship thing going on with him, but blindly-worshipped heroes didn't have laughs over breakfast, impromptu hugs (cleverly disguised as chokeholds), or sitting outside in comfortable silence watching the sunset over cans of soda.

Dipper may have bonded with him more, but it was obvious who Dipper felt more comfortable and at home with. Hell, it wasn't until Stanley left that Dipper began calling him 'Grunkle'.

Ford sighed quietly, shifting back and tugging back the covers of the bed, leaning Dipper down. He tucked the covers back over the boy before sitting back at the foot of the bed. "You need sleep," he told Dipper, who was looking all out of sorts. "Sleep in here for the rest of the summer if you need to. It's alright. We'll talk in the morning."

Dipper just took a deep breath and let it out, his body visibly deflating with physical and emotional exhaustion, his eyes fluttering shut. "…Night, Grunkle Stan…" he murmured, snuggling into the blankets that still smelled of pine oil and leather.

Ford gave Dipper a teary smile, waiting until he knew Dipper was asleep before quietly slipping out of the room, heading back to his own, practically collapsing on the couch. He took off his glasses and stared up at the ceiling for a while before reaching into his pocket and taking out Stanley's letter, not unfolding it, but rather resting it on his chest, wishing he had someone to tuck HIM in now.

He drifted off to sleep, being lulled by the sound of a gentle breeze rustling the leaves outside the cracked window, and the faint scent of pine oil and leather.

* * *

 _Stanley Pines, or that which used to be Stanley Pines, stood at the border of the forest, looking over the house in the clearing with a somber expression on his face, his conjured visage looking as old as it had when his physical form walked in the past new moon._

 _ **You still mourn for them**_ _, the voice of One said to him, sounding more like a single entity that walked beside him, rather than many eldritch voices at once as a whisper in his ear. He simply nodded, the half-moon glow in his eyes looking dull._

 _ **I do**_ _, he replied._ _ **I always will, just as you promised.**_

 _ **We take no pleasure in your pain**_ _, the One said._ _ **It will fade with time.**_

 _Stanley let out a soft scoff that held no humor, only bitterness and sadness._ _ **Not soon enough**_ _, he said._ _ **My family is in pain. Mabel fears abandonment. Dipper fears he didn't love me enough. And Stanford…**_ _He trailed off, closing his eyes._ _ **Mabel and Dipper will move on. They are young, with their lives ahead of them. Stanford will mourn me for what remains of his.**_

 _ **Such is the fate of those who make new regrets so late in life. But you still refuse to let him acknowledge you.**_

 _Stanley's hands tightened around the 8-ball of his cane._ _ **Even old dogs can learn new tricks**_ _, he replied._ _ **Mabel got her reassurance and comfort from Stanford, not from me. Same with Dipper. Stanford will learn that his worth isn't in his books or his mysteries, it's what he does for his family. If they can depend on each other, then my leaving will hurt less.**_

 _ **A wise decision**_ _, the One commended._ _ **But even you have to know that those three, knowing what they know about this place, and being who they are, will very likely follow your example. In one way or the other, and perhaps by some other being than We.**_

 _Stanley scowled._ _ **If you're referring to the yellow triangular asshole, then you can rest assured…**_

 _The moonlike glow in his eyes was almost blinding, the trees rustling almost violently in the wind, his scent almost permeating the air._

 _ **…I will know the agony of eternal damnation before I let him touch my family.**_


	10. Chapter 10

In the end, Dipper, Mabel, and Ford all agreed that they were in no state to have a big party. A smaller, more intimate affair with them, Soos, and Wendy; maybe some of Wendy's friends, since Mabel figured they could use something non-high school-ish to sooth their teenage trauma.

The party was set for the day BEFORE their birthday. The Pines wanted the last day of summer to be between themselves, and it was something everyone could agree on, schedule-wise. They still knew it would be something of a somber affair.

Soos and Wendy were aware of Stanley's 'leaving'. It had been difficult to tell them, but Mabel rationalized that Soos and Wendy would be able to tell what was up, and could instantly tell the difference between the two elder Pines.

To his credit, Soos seemed to be handling the absence of his father figure maturely, knowing that it wasn't the same situation with his birthfather. He'd been in Gravity Falls all his life, and knew the weirdness sometimes did things that couldn't be understood. If anything, it gave him a reason to extend his planned visit to Portland to meet up with Melody, mentioning _'Mr. Pines always asked if I was gonna date Melody properly an' settle down. Guess now I don't have a reason not to, right?'_.

Wendy took it worse. She had almost been too upset to hear about the birthday party, but she had accepted the invite, brushing past Ford on the way out, emitting a tangible aura of contempt. She hadn't gone home, but rather sat outside on the couch, staring out over the property.

It was nearing dusk when Ford stepped outside, pausing when he saw her still sitting there. "…Are you alright?" he asked. "Do you need a ride home?"

Wendy rubbed her arms, scowling. "No," she replied bitterly. "I'm fine."

Ford looked around awkwardly, sort of forgetting what he had come out here for in the first place. "…It's getting late," he said. "Are you sure you—"

"Was it you?" she demanded sharply, glowering at him. "Did you make him leave?" Ford stared at her, his brain scrambling to come up with an answer out of the jumbled mess that was spewed up.

"…I…no, I…" he stammered, unable to properly say 'no, I didn't make him leave'. Because that would be a partial lie. It WAS because of him that his brother was gone. "I didn't…"

"Because I'm not stupid," she continued, her eyes looking glassy. "Soos told me the whole story, and I've seen you two interact. You always looked at him like he was some stray mongrel ruining your PERFECT little world! So FORGIVE me if I'm not convinced you didn't have anything to do with this!"

"He's my brother!" Ford snapped, feeling his nerves fray slightly. "I'm no heartless monster, I wouldn't have thrown him out!"

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't have made him feel welcome either," she shot back, crossing her arms. "I have THREE brothers, and they get under my fingernails so much it's sometimes unbearable. But you bet your ass if they need me, I'm there!" She glowered, her eyes hard. "Three years back, they wrecked my chainsaw sculpture that would have taken me to nationals in the US Young Lumberjacks competition, but I didn't throw them out of my life for it!"

Ford clenched his hands tightly, quelling down his first instinct to lash out. "Some silly competition is no comparison to a possible entrance to the best school in the country—"

"By WHOSE impossible standards, you jackass!?" Wendy snapped. "That competition was important to ME! So what do I care what YOU think of it, you elitist prick!" She scowled, wiping her face furiously. "So maybe to an elitist like YOU, he wasn't worth much! But to us backwoods simple folk, he was EVERYTHING! That man gave me a job when every store in this town kicked me to the curb and my dad was going to send me to a logging camp, and he let me KEEP it, even though I was a crap employee!"

She wiped her eyes, her face red with anger. "Stan's bailed me out of trouble, paid off cops to keep 'driving without a license' off my record, and punched out stupid guys who wouldn't stop harassing me. I've known that man all my life, and now he's GONE, and it all started when YOU came here! So yeah, excuse the CRAP out of me for thinking the worst!" She sat back hard on the couch, her chin quivering from the effort it took to not make a noisier fuss.

"…He's as good as family," she said quietly. "I'd even go as far to say he's my best friend. He's certainly more reliable than anyone else in my life, and he's a professional conman. And now that he's gone, I've got no more reliable rock, no more job, and nowhere safe to go when I want to get some sleazebag off my back." She kicked at the porch floor almost petulantly. "So I hope your stupid house and supernatural crap was worth it."

Ford's first reaction was to shout, rave, and rant, and possibly kick the surly teenager off of his property, but he forced himself to remain calm, take a few deep breaths, and rationalize. HE was the adult, he needed to act like it.

He was also 93% sure Stanley would come out of wherever he went and shove his size 11 foot up his ass if he made the girl more upset than she already was. So he began following the mantra that had helped him through THIS much so far: What Would Stanley Do?

Ford quietly sat down on the arm of the couch, staring out at the darkening forest. "…It wasn't," he said softly, his voice thick with restraint to keep it civil. "If burning my house, my birth certificate, and my journals could bring him back, I would do it in a heartbeat. It only serves me right that I realize the lengths I would go for him now that he's gone."

"It's not just YOU that's getting served," Wendy said bitterly, rubbing her arms. "You've been out of touch, old man, you didn't even KNOW him like we did. YOU feel like shit out of guilt. _I_ feel like shit because I just lost someone who's been a constant my ENTIRE LIFE, and I didn't even get to say goodbye." Tears dripped down her face, but she made no move to brush them away.

"You know, my first memory was of this place. My mom brought me here. I dunno what for, this place had been around long enough that it wasn't anything new or whatever…but everyone in town's been here." She rubbed her arms. "I can just remember Stan being nice to me. He likes kids, as long as they don't wreck anything…so of course, me being like, five years old, I bit his hand." Her lips twitched slightly. "Guess I've been a pain in his ass ever since, and ten years later, he hires me for his shop."

She looked upwards at the sky, which was fading from dusky red to nighttime blue. "…That's…just the kind of guy he was," she said. "I kinda get why he was so accommodating to me now, considering we both have daddy issues and no one really thinks we're gonna amount to much in the long run." She let out a softy, shaky scoff. "…Never did tell him 'thank you' for everything…"

"…Neither did I," Ford said, wringing his hands. "And you're right. I DIDN'T know him like everyone else did. I didn't want to. And now he's gone, and I'm finding out just what a…a GOOD person he was, through little things he left behind…through people who knew him…not from him…when he was RIGHT THERE, willing to share…"

He sighed, his fingers clenching around themselves. "…the last conversation we had, I told him I didn't think I would be able to forgive him for everything." He swallowed a prickling lump in his throat. "Now…the past seems so trivial and STUPID…it's so easy to forgive now, when you'd give anything to get them back." He took off his glasses, rubbing his face.

"'I'm sorry' just…doesn't cut it now, does it?"

Wendy snorted, wiping at her own face. "No," she replied. "It doesn't." She looked up at the sky. "…But it's a start." She glanced over at him, seeing his surprised expression. "…I might not know a lot about you, but you sure struck me as the kind of person who has a ton of trouble saying 'please', 'thank you', and 'sorry'."

Ford put his glasses back on, giving her a wry smile. "How do you figure that?" Wendy smiled back.

"…Stan's the same way."

Ford sat there quietly, feeling oddly…GOOD, being compared to his brother by someone who cared for him, even if the subject wasn't that much to be proud of. It was just…something. He felt a more genuine smile twitch at his lips as he sighed.

"…do you think you could help me with something?" He wrung his hands together again. "…Dipper and Mabel deserve a good party…and you know them both better than I do. Do you think you could…?"

"Give you some pointers?" Wendy provided. "Sure thing. Soos could help too. He'd do anything for the Pines family."

Ford nodded quietly, recalling that Stanley seemed to include the young man in on many family discussions and outings. "Thank you," he said.

"Old dog can learn new tricks," Wendy muttered, snickering at Ford's annoyed expression. "Don't worry about it. We'll make sure Dipper and Mabel have a great birthday, alright?"

Ford gave her a grateful smile, standing. "It's too dark outside for you to be walking anywhere," he said. "Please, let me drive you home."

Wendy looked up at the sky again, grimacing slightly. "…you're right," she said. "Alright. I don't…really feel okay walking around in the dark anymore." She stepped off the porch while Ford poked his head into the house.

"Kids, I'm driving Wendy home, alright? I'll be back soon!"

Stampeding footfalls let him know his departure wasn't well-received.

"Grunkle Ford, can we go with you?" Mabel asked, a twinge of fear in her voice. Dipper didn't ask, but he rather began fumbling to put his shoes on. Ford sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"…Kids, please…" he said softly. "It's just for a few minutes, not more than a half-hour." He took his cell phone out of his pocket to show it to them. "I have my phone on me, fully-charged in case of an emergency, and I made perfectly sure the wards around the house wont let so much as a gnome or fairy through." He put his phone back into his pocket, ruffling their hair. "If it makes you feel better, you can each pick something from the armory to keep on you…but I'm going to come back, I promise."

Dipper and Mabel looked at each other, identical looks of worry and a twinge of distrust displayed fully on their faces. Ford sighed, kneeling down to their level.

"…I know you have no reason to, especially considering…" he said quietly. "…but please, kids. TRUST ME. I'll come back. And when I do, we'll watch a movie with some popcorn. Half an hour. Thirty minutes. Okay?"

The twins shared another look before giving him a tight hug and stepping back.

"Thirty minutes," Mabel confirmed firmly, crossing her arms. "If you're even ONE minute late, you're singing the 'Stan Wrong Song'. WITH dancing. ON CAMERA."

"…The what?"

"…I'd just make sure you weren't late," Dipper said, looking at his watch. "Seven forty-four now. Mabel MEANS it."

Ford smiled, shutting the door behind him, turning to Wendy. "Ready to go." He walked to the car with her, starting it up.

"I'd drive a little fast," she said, buckling up. "When Mabel makes you perform a song-and-dance of shame, she goes all out. And it's twenty minutes to my house."

In hindsight, she sort of wished she hadn't teased about the distance to her house. Crazy driving seemed to be a Pines family thing.

* * *

It took twenty-eight minutes for him to get back, and Mabel was only SLIGHTLY disappointed she wouldn't have a matching song-and-dance of shame for him and Stanley. It was made up for when the movie they picked out was a nice compilation of them of whatever they managed to capture over the summer.

It was a little hard at first, seeing Stan in some videos, but Mabel picked out the more lighthearted ones, coming up with the final take of Stan performing the 'Stan Wrong Song', the end of which Mabel had told him to throw a handful of glitter and birdseed for a flourishing finish, and Stan proceeded to get attacked by birds, running around and shouting as he batted them back. By the end of the short video, Dipper, Mabel, and Ford were howling with laughter and didn't settle down until well after the clip was over.

A couple more videos in—consisting mostly of Dipper exploring some Gravity Falls weirdness and Mabel showing off her questionable knowledge of all things glitz and glamour—the kids had fallen asleep. Ford continued to watch through the movies, too interested in getting to know his family to just turn them off.

He had just finished off a clip of Mabel's puppet show—as well as almost turning it off when he heard Mabel shout _'GET OUT OF MY BROTHER'S BODY YOU EVIL TRIANGLE!'_ and end things with a literal bang—and was about to turn the tape off when another clip showed up.

He saw Stanley on the screen, burying his face in the newspaper and trying to ignore the camera that was pointed at him.

 _"For th' last time, Mabel, I'm not doin' it,"_ _Stanley muttered gruffly. Mabel sighed heavily behind the camera and set it down on the table, the sound of a chair scraping on the floor giving the audio cue of her sitting down._

 _"Okay, fine, the camera's off,"_ _Mabel fibbed_. _"But please, Grunkle Stan…I really wanna hear one."_

 _Stanley put the paper down, his expression exasperated and almost tired_. _"Mabel, why th' heck do you even wanna know so badly?"_ _he asked_.

 _"…Because I'd like to hear something NICE about you two for once," Mabel replied, sounding dejected. "It doesn't hafta be gushy or anything, just…nice."_

 _Stanley drummed his fingers on the table, looking contemplative. "…ugh, alright," he muttered. "But tell ANYONE this, an' I'll deny it forever."_

 _"Lips are sealed, Grunkle Stan."_

 _"…It was back in th' seventh grade, during a really bad spring fever that turned into th' flu. His fever got so high, he almost caught meningitis, started hallucinating an' all. He kept crying about how he was gonna fail math because of a huge exam comin' up. Man, our math teacher was a REAL piece of work then. Couldn't stand it that Stanford was so smart. Heck, I even think Stanford was smarter than HIM, y'know?_

 _"…anyway, Stanford was SURE he was gonna fail math since this exam was gonna be worth a fourth of our grade, an' he was HOPING so hard t' get into a trigonometry class th' next year with th' high school crowd, but he HAD to keep his A grade…"_

 _Stanley paused, drumming his fingers on the table again. "…I couldn't stand seein' him like that, crying for three days straight over that stupid exam, even after his fever broke an' he wanted to go back to school…so I studied my a…my butt off for a week, wore my glasses to school, an' took all his classes in his place. I forged a note from Ma sayin' he was feelin' better, and that I was feelin' sick. Took that jerk's exam, an' passed it with an A."_

 _He rubbed the back of his head. "…'course, that meant that 'Stanley' DIDN'T take th' test, an' failed. By th' time Stanford got back to school an' took a few after-school makeup days, he thought he'd taken his exam with one of 'em an' passed. He got into his trig class like he wanted…I never had th' heart to tell 'im it was me that got 'im there."_

 _"Awww, Grunkle Staaaaaan, that's so sweet!" Mabel gushed off-camera. "Kinda like when I dressed like Dipper and punched some bully's tooth out when they wouldn't stop picking on him!"_

 _Stanley laughed. "That's my girl. We gotta stick up for th' nerds, even if they never know it."_

 _"Yeah! Go Team Personality!"_

 _"Team Personality!"_

 _They high-fived over the table._

The clip cut to black.

Ford stared at the screen, sitting back on the couch hard. Did that really happen? Did Stanley REALLY do that for him? Sure, they'd done the Twin Thing before…and certainly, once the teachers got over the novelty of his extra fingers, they sometimes had trouble telling them apart if Stanley wore his glasses to school…but did Stanley REALLY take HIS exam and pass?

 _…Enough selling your brother short, Ford,_ he thought to himself, sounding exasperated even in his own head. Of course he could have. Stanley learned physics and quantum mechanics to start up the portal again…his brother was capable of so much when he applied himself.

He wiped his eyes, smiling. Without his brother, he would've been stuck behind in math because of a bitter jerk teacher…and who KNOWS how that could have panned out in the long run.

"…You never cease to amaze me, Lee," he muttered, closing his eyes. "…just wish this 'doing questionable things and not telling each other' business would end already. It's already been established that we can handle more than the other thinks."

He paused as though giving his brother some means to answer. Of course, there was none. "Alright, fine. Keep your secrets. You know I'll find 'em out anyway…"

He settled back for some shut-eye, drifting off to sleep, though one final thought passed his mind, and not in his own voice.

 _'You should know by now that some mysteries aren't worth solving.'_


	11. Chapter 11

With much appreciated help from Wendy and Soos, Ford managed to plan up something good for the twins that may not have been over-the-top birthday blowout, but was still nice enough to be considered great.

While Wendy hung out with the kids, Ford drove into town with Soos for some decorations and maybe some gifts, if something caught their fancy. Soos proved to be a wealth of knowledge about the kids, naming off things even Ford didn't know about.

"…so Dipper likes both orchestral videogame soundtracks…but also pop music," Ford recanted, looking over the CD display with a critical eye as he picked up 'Top Ten from the Top Forty 53'.

"Oh yeah, he eats that stuff up," Soos said, picking out a Five Directions CD for Mabel. "Mabel likes the teenybopper fad band of the year, but Dipper doesn't care about the artist, as long as the song is catchy." He added the CD to the bag. "But Mabel also likes synthesized techno. Something she can dance to, y'know?"

Ford nodded. "Makes sense," he said, scratching his head, not really getting all the new genres that he'd missed the past thirty years, but trusting Soos enough to know what he was talking about. "Now, what about other things…books, games, hobbies…?"

"Oh, that's easy," Soos said, beaming. "For books, Dipper likes mysteries while Mabel likes fantasy. She'll SAY she likes those age-inappropriate trashy romance novels, but she actually likes a plot and more romance than…you know." He shrugged. "She's boy-crazy, but not THAT boy-crazy."

Ford felt his cheeks heat up, not really wanting to hear THAT much about developing teenage hormones. He'd been through enough when HE was a teenager as it was.

"As for games, Dipper likes strategy, but if there's no real imagination involved, he'll lose interest. You'd think he'd like Sudoku, but I don't think I've seen him finish a page in one sitting before. Mabel usually has to finish it for him."

"Mabel likes Sudoku?" Ford asked, arching a brow.

Soos nodded. "Sure. She's pretty good at math. Mr. Pines said he wouldn't trust anyone but Mabel with his bookkeeping, if only she'd stop putting 'Do Better Next Time' stickers on the pages." He led the way past the music to some games. "I think it's because she's better at picking up patterns than Dipper. Kid's crazy good with codes too. Between those two, they could crack government secrets, I tell ya."

Ford replied with a contemplative sound, mulling that over as he paid for the music CDs. "Finding patterns DOES come easily to Mabel," he said, mostly to himself. "I've seen her knit out a unique sweater in one sitting without references."

"Oh yeah, she's totally into that arts and crafts stuff," Soos said. "Dipper's not half-bad at it either, he just doesn't have her passion for it. But he likes chess, croquet…Mr. Pines was teaching him how to shoot pool, he has a knack for that. Mabel's more into darts."

Ford rolled his eyes. "Of course he'd teach them bar games," he replied, looking over a few more things. "…was…Stanley any good at it?"

Soos's expression went nostalgically sad, his smile slightly forced. "…Mr. Pines was good at everything," he replied simply. "Jack of all trades, master of none. If there was something he couldn't do, he'd work at it until he could. But some things he was GREAT at. He could make people smile. If he made you mad, he'd find a way to charm you back in. Best of all, he knew how to make you feel like family."

Ford smiled softly. "…yeah…he kind of did," he replied. "…you and Wendy seem to think so well of him…and he thought well of you two."

Soos nodded quietly. "…I think he knew to some point…but I always thought of him as my dad. I mean…I've been working for him since I was twelve. He just kinda took me in an' gave me someone to look up to. There's nothing I wouldn't have done for him. For ANY of the Pines."

Ford sighed softly, walking in silence through the stores. "…If you want to still come by after summer ends…it's perfectly alright with me," he said. "I could really use someone to help me fix my house up…tell me what I could so with some of the things inside." He rubbed the back of his head. "…Tell me a little more about Stanley…you know…"

"I know." Soos gave him a nod, understanding. "It's not too late to wanna get to know him. You don't have to be afraid to ask, Mr. Pines the Second."

Ford snorted softly. "Please, call me Ford," he replied. "'Mr. Pines the Second' is a bit of a mouthful."

"You got it, dude. We should check out Knicks 'n' Knacks, they've got all sorts of neat things in there they might like!"

"Lead the way then, Soos," Ford said, smiling as he walked on with Soos, who beamed and hurried onward.

* * *

Even for how small the affair was, Mabel still did her small part in dressing up in a party dress she had packed just for the occasion, decorating herself up with some costume jewelry and glitter. She managed to coax Dipper into a bedazzled collared shirt just for some pizazz, on the condition that she forego glittering him up.

Soos had come by some time earlier with his grandmother, who had baked the twins two individual cakes (Soos had mentioned that Mabel liked chocolate and Dipper preferred vanilla); Mabel's was done up in colorful frosting patterns and doused in edible glitter while Dipper's was frosted with dark blue and had the Big Dipper constellation added as decoration.

Ford said it was incredibly thoughtful that Abuelita bake two cakes, and Soos made mention that Dipper had a lower food constitution than Mabel did, and that Mabel's cake might be too much for his stomach. Ford nodded, now recalling some medication in Stanley's medicine cabinet that had Dipper's name on it with a post-it note reading **JUST IN CASE**.

Wendy arrived a bit after Soos and his grandmother, carting a couple of her friends with her. Ford heard that the older teenagers were fond of the twins, but still found himself a little overwhelmed, even by this small crowd. Still, he toughened himself up, reminding himself that this was for Dipper and Mabel.

It didn't really make looking at his reflection any easier.

It was understood that while Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and Wendy could be privy to Stan's disappearance, it would be prudent that it stay between that small group. So for the party, and, until some excuse was made for the future, Ford was going to have to play his brother's part.

Ford adjusted the cuff of his shirt before tugging on a black jacket and buttoning it, smoothing it down before looking into the mirror, swallowing hard when he saw the image of his brother staring back at him.

The clothes really DID make the man; although Ford's posture made him look taller and his hair wasn't quite as grey, the resemblance was still too uncanny to not take his breath away for a brief moment.

 _"Look at us. When did we become old men?"_

When, indeed? That day he came back was the first time he'd really gotten a good look at himself after a shower and change of clothes, seeing his age for the first time…he recalled Stanley's expression, like HE was seeing his age for the first time too. Ford thought Stanley was just making some small talk, but now he understood.

So much time had passed…TOO much time. Circumstances kept them apart for thirty years, and they were more than halfway through their lives, finally meeting again when most people their age were contemplating retirement and settling down.

These past couple of weeks had him feeling his age little by little, and now he was REALLY seeing it. He was at a point in his life where he should have been settled and comfortable, maybe even gotten married, had a few kids…he could have probably been a grandfather by now...

…Stanley could have had the same. SHOULD have had the same. This was a time where both of them should be doting on grandkids and bringing up horribly embarrassing stories at family functions, seeing who could out-shame the other.

…and now…

 _And NOW, you sort of have that,_ he thought to himself…at least, he FIGURED it was him thinking it. _You've got the niblings. Dote on THEM. You've got YEARS to do so; a few DECADES if you play your cards right._

That was true. Dipper and Mabel were just turning thirteen tomorrow; he still had plenty of birthdays, graduations, college entrances, and maybe even some weddings in the future to look forward to. He'd barely known the kids for a month, but now, he couldn't imagine life without them.

 _That's what family is._

Ford smiled at his reflection, then paused, straightening it a little. Ugh, thirty years without much to be happy about had left his smile crooked. He had to fix that.

"Grunkle Fooooooord, are you ready?" Mabel's voice outside the door rang out, accompanied by several insistent knocks.

Ford sighed and walked to the door, opening it. "I'm ready," he said, shifting in the suit awkwardly. "…How do I look?"

Mabel's eyes went watery, worrying him for a moment before she hugged him tightly. "…I think it 'suits' you well," she said, attempting to lift her mood with a pun. Ford patted her head, smiling.

"Glad to hear it." He looked up, seeing Dipper, standing close by, looking him over a little awkwardly. Ford gave him an encouraging look, opening his free arm invitingly. Dipper returned a half-smile, walking over and hugging him too.

"…y'wear it nice," Dipper said, wiping at his eyes. "You…really do." He stepped back, rubbing his chin. "…You're kinda missing something…"

"Uh, DUH." Mabel hurried up to the attic before running back down, holding a fez in her hands. "I found a spare about a month ago and kept it in case Grunkle Stan needed me to be Boss Mabel again…but I spruced it up for you, Grunkle Ford." She handed it to him, and he turned it in his hands, seeing that instead of the golden emblem Stanley wore on his fez, this one had a golden six-fingered hand.

He smiled a little at the gift before putting it on, adjusting it slightly. "Better?"

Dipper swallowed hard, nodding. "…better," he replied thickly. Mabel nodded, wiping her eyes.

"Better." She grabbed Ford's hand. "Now let's go party! We MIGHT need to give you a few shots of Mabel Juice to spruce you up a bit. Get your mojo flowing, y'know?"

Ford snorted, curling his free arm around Dipper's shoulders, walking out to the back of the Shack with them. "Whatever you say, Mabel," he replied, then muttered to Dipper, "Make sure she doesn't overdose me on that stuff. It's like if coffee and nightmares had a baby."

Dipper smiled. "I've got ya covered, Grunkle Stan," he said, walking on, seemingly not noticing the slip of names.

And Ford oddly didn't find the need to care.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Stanford sat back on the bench with the thirteen-year-old twins, his arms crossed so as to habitually yet discretely hide his hands, the niblings leaning on a shoulder each as they waited for the bus to Piedmont to arrive. It was early in the morning, and they had come almost an hour early, knowing that if they waited until last minute to leave, they'd end up never doing so.

It was September 1st, and already there was a coolness in the air that signaled the first signs of autumn. Summer was over, and it seemed both too soon and too long for all three Pines. So much had happened, so much gained and lost…

Ford cleared his throat softly. "Did you make sure you have everything?" he asked quietly. Dipper nodded, not lifting his head from Ford's left shoulder. Mabel sighed from his right.

"Summer's really over," she said quietly, sounding both incredulous and accepting. "…is it bad that I used to wish summer would last forever?" Ford uncrossed his arms, shifting them back to curl around the twins' shoulders.

"I don't think so," he replied. "It's a wish for millions of kids everywhere…and crotchety old adults who have to get jobs." He smiled when even Dipper let out a bark of laughter. "You two are going to be fine. And you know that if you ever need help with homework, I'm a video chat away."

In addition to shopping for the twins, Soos had convinced him to pick up a laptop that could be used for non-secret paranormal study stuff, as well as using the webcam to keep in touch with the kids easier. Phone calls were one thing, but being able to SEE each other would help ease the distance after all this. So he splurged on a good one, figuring he could tinker with it later for customization, and set aside a day later this week to set everything up.

His thoughts trailed back to the two-part birthday; the party had gone very well. It was heartening to see Dipper and Mabel laugh and smile and just be kids, playing some party games with Wendy's friends, opening gifts, and smashing a—apparently now Pines traditional—slice of their cakes into each other's faces.

THAT had started a food fight, and honestly, Ford was having too much fun with the twins and Soos on Team Pines to be bothered, slaughtering Team Corduroy while Abuelita refereed from the porch.

The party ended with the twins being hoisted in the air with a loud cheering of _'PINES PINES PINES!'_. Things wound down after that, with Wendy starting a fire pit to help clean up the mess and extra wrapping paper, and everyone sat around the fire in comfortable silence, eating the food off their clothes for awhile before Thompson gave the teenagers a ride home.

Soos stayed for a bit longer before leaving with his grandmother, leaving the twins and Ford sitting outside with only the dim porch light, the fire, and the full moon to light up the yard, and there they sat until the twins began nodding off.

Ford had them go inside and shower before they fell asleep covered in food residue, and tidied up a bit as they did so, counting it as a success.

Everyone slept in the next day, on the twins' birthday, but Ford had breakfast ready and their other gifts. Dipper and Mabel looked confused at the extra gifts, but Ford explained that these gifts were from him…and from Stanley, hidden away in the closet for Ford to find when he went in to get one of Stanley's suits.

They opened Ford's gifts first, and had equally-pitched squeals when the saw the new laptops he bought for them, having heard Dipper express a desire for one to keep better records of his paranormal studies. He wanted to give one to Mabel too, so she could so what she wanted. She appeared to be much better at editing movies than her brother, in any case, and he'd heard great things about 'graphic design' on computers he was sure she would be interested in.

After the squealing and hugs died down, he gave them Stanley's gifts, sitting back with his coffee to watch.

Dipper's gift was a box full of notebooks, photographs, and maps amassed over Stanley's thirty years in Gravity Falls, full of anecdotes, steadily-improved drawings, and observations. Ford thought it somewhat odd that he wouldn't have found SOMETHING like this around the Shack; Stanley had souvenirs and collections of everywhere they used to go and everything they did as kids, and he was sure that habit wouldn't have faded over time. Now he knew Stanley was giving the collection to Dipper.

Mabel's gift was a crudely but snugly knitted scarf, pink in color with golden tassels. She held it to her tightly, tearfully murmuring that she'd tried to teach Stanley to knit, but he never picked it up, or so she'd thought. It took her a few minutes to settle down before she reached back into the box and took out a set of pink knuckledusters. THAT particular gift raised a few eyebrows, but then Ford remembered that Mabel fought unicorns barehanded, and came out on top.

The twins also got personalized birthday cards, with individual messages of love and warmth from Stanley that they sort of kept close to the chest. Ford didn't mind; he still hadn't shown them HIS letter from Stanley.

When Dipper and Mabel finally perked themselves up, Ford brought out two more gifts for them, saying it was 'from both of us'. For Dipper was a billiards cue stick with a tiny 8-ball carved into the back end, and for Mabel was a dart set, the fletching being a sparkling pink. The twins sort of stared at their gifts before bursting into laughter, hugging him tightly as their laughter dissolved into tears again.

The rest of the day was spent watching more movies and looking through Mabel's scrapbook, where she had taken pictures religiously almost every day. There was plenty to reminisce about. Apart from eating lunch and dinner and having a long phone conversation with their parents, everything was quiet and peaceful.

Before they went to sleep, Mabel insisted on opening up the windows 'because of the almost-autumn breeze' that would cut down on the AC, but even Dipper noticed the scent of pine oil and leather as he went to bed that night.

Mabel hugging Ford tightly brought him back to the present. "You'll come visit us for Christmas, right?" she asked. Ford ruffled her hair.

"Of course I will. And you two will come back next summer?"

"Nothing could stop us," Dipper said. "Promise you'll be safe until then?"

 _'Promise you wont disappear too'_ was what Ford heard between the lines. He hugged them both tightly. "I'll be safe," he promised. "As long as you two will be."

The Pines sat there hugging until the bus pulled up. Ford packed the luggage away, made sure the twins had everything they'd need in their carry-on bags—Mabel had her knuckledusters in her pockets 'just in case'—and stood back. "I guess this is goodbye for now," he said thickly. "Call as soon as you get to Piedmont, I want to make sure you made it home alright."

"We will," Dipper promised, holding his sister's hand and walking up onto the bus. Mabel followed, getting a window seat and pressing her face to the glass to make a funny face. Ford snorted, smiling and waving as the bus pulled away.

He stood there quietly until the bus was out of sight before climbing into the car and driving home. He walked in, locked the door, then touched a button on his watch to open the vending machine door, heading down to the second level of the basement.

He'd gotten rid of every sign of Bill late at night after the kids went to bed, burning and shattering everything until not one triangle, or one eye, remained, leaving just a plain, empty study with source material he'd have to go through again at some time.

Ford sat down at his desk, reaching up to a bookshelf and taking out a journal with a large **4** in the middle of it, opening it to show Stanley's folded-up letter along with every clue he could think of taking up a handful of pages.

' _I'll find you, Stanley,'_ he told himself, his jaw tightening. _'I'll find you, and I'll bring you back. I don't care if it takes ME thirty years to do it. I owe it to you.'_

He picked up his pen, and he began to write.

 **THE END**

* * *

 **To be continued in the sequel, _'Debts Paid'. Watch out for it, if you're interested!_  
**


End file.
